Cleaning Up Corruption
by Zyrorai
Summary: The Ministry of Magic is definitely corrupt, so a committee is being sent to try to 'clean it up.' Plus an internship, some mirrors, an arch, and scheming Death Eaters. Takes place the summer after OotP! now AU Chapter 11 is now up!
1. The International Confederation

Disclaimer: No! Don't look at me! I didn't do anything! I don't own any of these characters! And I'm not insulting anyone's nationality, really!

A/N: Ok, now that that's out of the way. This fic takes place a week or so after the ending of OotP (so of course you had better have read that first). This fic is just the summer, mostly. In case you're wondering where this fic will be going, it's more about the noticeably corrupt actions of the Ministry of Magic in the OotP. Now, they're going to pay by being subjected to some foreign government intervention. Of course we're going to see our fav characters, find out about Harry's O.W.L. grades, Sirius-issues, Death Eater and Voldemort stuff etc. and be ready for some well-deserved Fudge-bashing.

Updated A/N: Now that HBP is out, this fic has been moved to 731 AU Blvd. So obviously it's only canon through OotP. Enjoy!

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Chapter 1: The International Confederation of Wizards

Albus Dumbledore gently put the tips of his long fingers together, sitting back in his chair in an auditorium far below the streets of Luxembourg. More than a hundred wizards of various nationalities sat in seats in the circular amphitheater, some muttering to one another, some dozing off, and others frowning. The seats rose around a raised dais, much, mused Dumbledore, like the one in the Death Chamber of the Department of Mysteries. But instead of an archway and a rippling veil, there was a podium for official speeches. For the unofficial, it was often a bit of a shouting match and usually depended on who could use the Loudening Charm the best. The closest wizards to the dais and podium were the most important, powerful, and prominent in the Confederation. Dumbledore himself got front row seats.

The current speech-maker was a short, fiery French wizard, demanding quite colorfully in French, why certain facts were kept secret by the British Ministry of Magic. The podium, as well as the small pedestals in front of each of the members, had an Auto-Translation Charm built into it so the listener would hear an accurate translation in his or her preferred language. For this speech though, it might have been better if some of it had stayed in French.

"How is it that we are only told about the mass revolt of the dementors of Azkaban months after it happened?" Dumbledore, at this point, thought mildly, _well, I did tell them it was going to happen_. "How is it that such cover-ups had been done at the risk of the rest of the magical world! Is this the fault of Minister Fudge or the whole British Ministry!"

A wizard in navy blue robes on the opposite side of the dais stood up to interrupt the French representative. "If I may interrupt you briefly, Monsieur Jacques, I would like to note that the British Ministry of Magic often has a, shall we say, unreliable government. I would say that it is filled with double-dealing, corruption, and the wearing of perhaps too many hats by prominent members. Fudge is the one at fault, and, of course, the system."

A witch to the far right of Dumbledore snorted derisively, loud enough for everyone to hear, but also stood up. "The system! And your way should be any better, Mr. Jones? I daresay it takes _your_ silly American _system_ a decade to get anything done!"

At this, Mr. Jones said coolly, "At least we don't have a misguided totalitarian tyrant making _all_ of the decisions."

Before the witch, who turned a shade of pink, could reply, a wizard to Dumbledore's immediate left cleared his throat and said loudly, "We normally do not comment on the way other countries run their magical government, but with the recent failures of the British Minister…"

Murmurings broke out immediately. Dumbledore frowned slightly, not much more than a crease of the eyebrows. Was this Swiss wizard, Pascal Piccard, meaning what everyone thought he meant? Clearing his throat again, Piccard, continued, "But with the recent failures of the British Minister Cornelius Fudge, I believe a government reform is necessary in that highly _volatile_ area." Piccard shot a half-glance at Dumbledore, who only gave a slightly raised eyebrow in acknowledgement. "Then we shall have a vote of Confederation-enforced reform of the British Ministry of Magic."

This was going a little too far, and perhaps a bit too fast. A government reform? How could they be thinking of government reform after they had finally conceded to the fact the Voldemort had returned? Dumbledore got to his feet slowly and said clearly, "I find it hard to believe that we are considering a chaotic reform of a government that may, admittedly, need reform, when we have the much larger problem of Voldemort to deal with."

"Be that as it may, Dumbledore," said Piccard, nodding politely, "I'm sure that the rest of us wish to prevent more Ministry blunders from occurring, _especially_ in such dangerous times. I officially call a vote. In favor of enforced government reform of the British Ministry of Magic?"

Many, too many, in Dumbledore's opinion, shot up green sparks into the air. In fact, Dumbledore could tell that it was well over half. The Confederation was obviously desperate to be taking some sort of do-able action.

"All against such decree?" called out Piccard.

Dumbledore was a bit torn. True, a part of him really wanted to make Fudge squirm and suffer a bit for last year's antics, but the more sensible side noted how much more difficult it would be to get anything done in such a chaotic state. A government in the state of havoc was exactly what Voldemort was looking for, and they were going to give it to him willingly…

Dumbledore pointed his wand up and shot the customary red sparks into the air. However, he already knew that it wasn't going to be enough to overrule or even bring the vote to a deadlock. Sighing, he settled back into his chair, replaced the tips of his fingers together, and instead devised ways to get around the decree if the Ministry of Magic ended up really needing them.

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Minerva McGonagall was exiting the Great Hall when Dumbledore finally arrived. He entered the entrance hall not quite looking happy. McGonagall could tell since he actually bothered to use the front door of Hogwarts rather than Apparating with his phoenix into his office. If he used the front door, that means he took a longer way back to Hogwarts. If he took a longer way back to Hogwarts, that meant he had something to mull over and get out of his system before accidentally destroying something. However, no one could ever hope to figure out Dumbledore, since he might just have, by the odd chance, actually wanted to come through the entrance hall for once….McGonagall gave herself a mental shake. One could definitely chase one's logic in circles and wind up with a headache trying to figure out why Dumbledore does some of the things he does.

"So Dumbledore, how did the Confederation meeting go?" asked McGonagall, intercepting him at the foot of the marble stairs.

"Fudge is going to have a rather bad time in the near future," Dumbledore said, striding up the staircase with McGonagall hurrying behind him.

The Deputy Headmistress frowned. "I was hoping that Sibyll was not going to rub off on you."

Dumbledore smiled slightly. "The Confederation was unhappy with the way things turned out, and so, logically, wanted to blame somebody."

"And they blamed Fudge," McGonagall said, resisting the urge to smirk. Her distraction almost caused her to miss the trick stair, but she avoided it in time. Thirty-nine and a half years was supposed to mean that she knew her way around Hogwarts.

"Exactly. And in a futile gesture of action, they voted to have a government reform committee sent to our Ministry of Magic," said Dumbledore, sounding annoyed as he ducked behind a tapestry. "They want to appear to be doing something to 'fix' the problem and Fudge's blunder."

McGonagall passed under the tapestry also. "Well, that's easy enough: get a new minister. Remove Fudge from office." She snorted derisively. "That blustering git could have ruined everything, and almost did. Wasting time trying to take over Hogwarts instead of doing anything remotely useful. No, we would be well rid of him."

Dumbledore continued at his steady pace. McGonagall was having difficulty keeping up with him. "Removing him is a task, one might say, is easier said than done. Ministers usually have to resign. The last time a minister was removed from office was in 1819 for 'fits of insanity.' The paperwork is simply incredible for the task. I believe it takes at least five years to get everything through and cleared—not to mention a horrid amount of required signatures."

"Five years?" gasped McGonagall. "Merlin's beard, how did that happen?"

"That particular law?" asked Dumbledore calmly. "Some hundred years before that, a bill forced through by a minister with both money and power. Besides that, where would we find a new minister? I daresay not many would want that particular job at this particular time. No, leaving Fudge there is safest at this time."

McGonagall opened her mouth to speak, but decided against it. There was no way she could as easily forgive Fudge and Umbridge. The two walked in silence for several moments, musing, perhaps on the follies of governments. Then McGonagall asked, "Do you know who is going to be part of this committee? At least, where they're coming from?"

A shadow of a grimace crossed Dumbledore's face. At his lack of reply, she thought about it for a few moments. Then, stopping dead in her tracks, McGonagall said, half-disbelievingly, "Surely, not, not _them_!"

Dumbledore stopped also and turned to face her. "Unfortunately, yes. Them. They're sending Americans."

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Another A/N: And in case you didn't read the disclaimer, I have absolutely nothing against anyone's countries! Hope you enjoyed it, sorry if it was a tad on the boring side, and I really wish you review!


	2. The Long Awaited OWLs

Disclaimer: Does it look like I actually own anything? No! I don't!

Oh wow! Reviews! More than I actually hoped for! Thank you both so much for replying!!!!!!

_Giesbrecht_: I'm so glad you found that funny! I'm sort of trying to make this funny, at least a little bit.

_Valarauko_: Oh no, I'm definitely American. Otherwise, I don't think I'd feel comfortable making fun of them as much as I will. I'm glad you liked the chapter!

By the way…Thank you again! Replies always make us authors happy, no? Well, maybe not always, but a lot of the time!

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Chapter 2: The Long-Awaited O.W.L.s

It had only been a couple weeks into the summer and already Harry Potter was fed up with the Dursleys. There was really no help to be had about them—he despised them, and they despised him. It was rather unfortunate that he didn't have any other relatives. Harry tried most of the time just to ignore them now, but there were times that he had to see them, such as at meals. Mad-Eye Moody's threatening seemed to have intimidated them into acting with courtesy, but it was only a transparent veneer, if that. He knew what they really thought of him, but he realized that he really didn't care anymore.

However, this summer was definitely not as bad as the previous one, which by far had been the worst. Not only had he had the Dursleys to put up with last summer, he also had absolutely no news. No one had told him anything. Now, however, he seemed to be getting nothing but it. He was still getting the Daily Prophet, which had become suddenly a lot more useful and was also in constant contact with the Order of the Phoenix members.

_But now that I have news and information, but not Sirius, which would I rather have? _Harry found himself thinking that one morning in mid-July, sitting up in bed. He had been flipping idly through one of his books when the question struck him. It wasn't really even a question—of course he would have Sirius back.

It was still difficult to think about his godfather, but time seemed to have helped. Even thinking about his last conversation with Luna Lovegood on the last day of school seemed to have done something to ease the weighty hole in him. But how could he not help thinking about Sirius when he saw him fall, in his mind's eye, time and time again, through the veil in the Death Chamber? Sometimes he just wanted to hit something in frustration, but he knew it was no use. Sirius was gone and wasn't coming back. Why was it so easy to kill and so hard to save? And unbidden, but inevitable, came those thoughts of "if only…"

If only he had delayed a bit more in the forest, he would have run into Professor Snape, who would have told him that Sirius was safe in Grimmauld Place. Would Harry have believed him? Harry, even now, was not sure. If only they had ridden the thestrals by Grimmauld Place before going into the Ministry of Magic, then surely someone would have answered the door. If only he had listened to Sirius's and Lupin's last advice to him. If only he had listened to Hermione. If only he had remembered the package Sirius had given him before he returned to school after the holidays, the mirror. Sirius might have had it with him when he went to heal Buckbeak.

The one thing he didn't think "if only" with guilt was if only he had listened to Dumbledore. In Harry's mind, it made sense why he hadn't listened to the headmaster. Why should he do things without being explained why? Why should've he done Occlumency properly if no one would tell him exactly why it was so important? Would it have been so hard for Dumbledore to have been candid with him? Would it have been so hard for Dumbledore to say, "You have to stop having those dreams because Voldemort's trying to lure you into the Department of Mysteries and going there would further his plans"? Of course, then Harry would probably start asking more questions, but it still seemed as though Dumbledore had left him in the dark about a lot of things that year. And now he realized that even if Sirius had survived to get his name cleared, or even if Wormtail had never escaped, Dumbledore would still have insisted on Harry returning to the Dursleys.

He couldn't stop himself from mentioning the mirror in a letter to Lupin a week or two ago, how he had forgotten all about it and then smashed it back in his dormitory. _I might get seven years' bad luck for that_, thought Harry, amused. Lupin had then come over to Privet Drive, without the Dursleys knowing, and examined the mirror himself. Harry was a bit surprised when Lupin asked if he could take the broken mirror, but allowed him to anyway. Lupin must be just as badly affected by Sirius's death, or even more so.

Harry's room was a bit of a mess. It always seemed to get that way. There were books and parchment scattered every which way, ink bottles half-empty (not half-full) sitting in random places around the room, and broken quills lying in pieces on the floor. Old Daily Prophet articles were lying here and there, and as Hary got out of bed, he randomly picked up one, about to throw it away. It was from two weeks ago and had various articles such as, _Ministry Considering Appeal of Once-Acquitted Death Eaters_, or _International Confederation Now Taking Interest in Ministry Affairs_, and _What Does Fudge Plan to Do Now?_

A short advertisement or something caught Harry's eye for a moment. The ad read, "_Thinking of joining the Ministry of Magic? Considering a career in the government? Owl us today for opportunities of internships at the Ministry of Magic—must be fifteen or older to apply._" It featured a picture of the Fountain of Magical Brethren in full motion with all its water jets. Harry snorted in disgust. How could anyone even think of joining the Ministry when it was obviously so messed up? Harry idly wondered if they actually did restore the Fountain of Magical Brethren after Dumbledore's and Voldemort's duel had blasted most of it apart.

Throwing the paper away in disgust, Harry bent over and dug through his trunk. In it was still his father's Invisibility Cloak, his Firebolt, the Marauder's Map (though he personally wondered why Dumbledore had let him keep it after what had happened in his fourth year), and, yes, there it was, Sirius's penknife that resembled a Swiss Army knife. Harry picked it up for some reason and looked at it carefully. Even though the blade had melted, some of the other attachments on it still worked. He was still looking at it when a trio of owls flew in the room.

One was the usual brown owl that brought the _Daily Prophet_, (Harry slipped some Knuts into the bag around the owl's leg so it could leave), one was an unfamiliar screech owl that dropped an official-looking letter and then took off, and the other was Hedwig, his own snowy owl. She hadn't returned since he had sent a letter to Lupin last week. What surprised him though was the fact that, besides a letter, she was also carrying a package. A small, thin, square package.

Untying the package from her leg so she could get a drink, Harry read the letter first. It was rather short.

_Dear Harry,_

_I had forgotten all about the mirrors that Sirius and James used  
__to__ have. It's rather clever, like most of their inventions, so I  
__repaired__ this one for you and also modified the spell a bit.  
__Consider it an early birthday present. _

_-Lupin_

_P.S. Try talking to Ron or Hermione with it._

Daring to hope, he seized the package and hastily tore off the wrappings. Inside was the mirror, good as new. Before he could attempt to make it work, however, the mirror suddenly started glowing on its own. He dropped it in surprise, and luckily this time it didn't break. Lupin had probably put an Unbreakable Charm on it, like the one Hermione had used to trap Rita Skeeter in the glass jar. The mirror continued to glow a bright shade of blue. Harry was even more surprised when Ron's voice came out of the mirror.

"Harry? Harry Potter? Is this thing working? HAAAARRRRYYYYYYYYYYY! ARE YOU THERE?!?!!?!?"

It reminded him of that time when Ron tried to use a Muggle telephone. Struggling not to laugh too much, Harry scooped up the mirror again and took a seat on his bed. "Hello Ron," he said to Ron's familiar, freckled face, which was currently looking around and tapping the mirror. He looked surprised. "Harry! So this thing does work, I thought for a second that Fred and George pulled a prank on me. How are you doing?"

"Not too bad," replied Harry truthfully. "It's great seeing you again though. When'd you get this?"

"It came in the mail this morning with a note attached to it. The note said it was from Lupin, but you never know," said Ron, shrugging.

"So how are the twins doing anyway?" asked Harry.

"You wouldn't believe how successful their business is doing. Lee Jordan joined them at the end of term, you know, and is pretty much their business manager now, never mind his N.E.W.T.s. They changed the name to 'WeasLee's Wizarding Wheezes.' They're already talking about expanding into Hogsmeade, if you can believe that," said Ron. "And anyways, Mum isn't upset at their career choice anymore. Well, not too much. After all, Bill and Charlie didn't join the Ministry either."

"Bill and Charlie didn't quite go and start their own business either, did they?" said Harry, smiling. Suddenly, he noticed that his mirror was glowing that vibrant blue again. "Ron, is your mirror glowing?" asked Harry cautiously.

"Yeah, but--" started Ron, but was interrupted by a very familiar voice.

"Harry? Ron? Is either of you there? Oh there you two are. Hi!" Hermione's smiling face with her usual thick, bushy hair appeared to the left hand side, while Ron's got shunted over to the right a bit to make room. It was like a split screen of a TV. "I was really wondering if this was going to work, you know," continued Hermione, "and I was ever so surprised to get it today! But anyways, have either of you got your O.W.L. results yet?"

"I dunno, I haven't got a chance to look at my mail yet…" said Harry, finally looking over at the letter the screech owl had dropped. He bent over and picked it up, along with the _Daily Prophet_.

While Harry started opening the official-looking envelope, with a mixed feeling of foreboding and eagerness, Ron said, "Well, yes, I got them and I suppose you did too?"

"Yes, and I did better than I thought!" said Hermione brightly. "Sorry I was so irritable with you two during exam time, but you know, these grades do affect—"

"—our future careers, yeah, we know," finished Ron.

"So how did you do?" asked Hermione impatiently.

"Well, erm, decent," said Ron, looking a bit uncomfortable, but Harry didn't pay attention, as he was too busy looking over his own. He felt his jaw drop.

**O.W.L. Results for Harry Potter**

CHARMS:

Written-_Outstanding  
_Practical-_Exceeds Expectations_

TRANSFIGURATION:

Written-_Exceeds Expectations  
_Practical-_Exceeds Expectations_

HERBOLOGY:

Practical Only-_Acceptable_

DEFENSE AGAINST THE DARK ARTS:

Written-_Outstanding  
_Practical-_Outstanding_

POTIONS:

Written-_Outstanding  
_Practical-_Exceeds Expectations_

CARE OF MAGICAL CREATURES:

Written-_Acceptable  
_Practical-_Exceeds Expectations_

DIVINATION:

Practical Only-_Dreadful_

ASTRONOMY:

Written-_Acceptable  
_Practical-_Poor_

HISTORY OF MAGIC:

Written Only-_Poor_

Harry stared at the letter. He didn't think he did that well on the Potions O.W.L., but somehow he managed to get an O _and_ an E. Wildly, he remembered Professor McGonagall's words during his career counseling last year, but with a reality check, he realized she couldn't change his O.W.L. grades. Maybe it was a lucky fluke, or a mistake. But, it had his name on it…and the rest of the grades seemed to make sense. So maybe he got lucky again.

"I can't believe I got it," said Harry dumbly, looking thunderstruck at the paper in his hand.

"How'd you do Harry?" asked Hermione excitedly. "I got almost the perfect grades, but I think I remember which ones I answered wrong, which explains—"

"Hermione, do us a favor and stop right there," said Ron irritably. "Okay, so I didn't do as well as I hoped, so there."

"You know what this means, though, don't you?" said Hermione. At Harry and Ron's blank faces, she sighed her usual impatient sigh and said, "We won't be having all of our classes together like before. It's going to be different."

"At least we won't have to take any more of History of Magic though," said Ron, relieved. "I don't think I could stand Binn's droning voice a class longer."

"Or Trelawny's tower room," added Harry. "We won't ever have to see the old fraud again, unless she actually comes out of that tower." He felt uncomfortable thinking about Professor Trelawney. True, ninety-nine percent of the time she was a fraud, but she also made two of the most important prophecies of the last two decades…

"Let's not talk about school though; it's making me feel a bit nauseous," said Ron. "Do you realize that we only have two more years left of school?"

No, Harry had not quite realized this. Only two years left? It didn't seem as if he had spent five years at Hogwarts already, but thinking about all of the years, Harry supposed that yes, they had spent five years there. What would happen after they graduate? That thought lead down a rather depressing road, so he stopped it right there.

"Well, yes, I suppose we do, but they're going to be really tough, you know? Preparing for N.E.W.T.s and everything…" said Hermione, her voice trailing off. But Harry thought he detected a bit of sadness in the typical Hermione statement. Was she uncomfortable about leaving, too? "Oh, but anyways," she continued, "we still have a bit of time, don't we?"

Did they still have time? Harry suddenly wasn't so sure of that anymore.

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A/N: Sorry about that weird ending, I just wanted to break this chapter in two and thought that it would be best to stop it there. Again, hope you enjoyed reading!


	3. Discussions

Disclaimer: And guess what! I still don't own any characters, people, places, inanimate objects, or magical creatures!!!!!!

Thanks again, _Valarauko_, for replying! I'm glad you liked the mirror thing, I thought it was really clever in the book. Too bad Harry completely forgot about it. Oh, and for Ron's OWLs…we'll see.

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Chapter 3: Discussions

Harry was still lost in miserable thoughts when Hermione exclaimed, her voice coming from the mirror, "Oh! That reminds me! Have you two continued getting the _Daily Prophet_?" Seeing both of their nods, she continued, "Did you see it today?"

"What? No, not yet," said Harry, a little startled at the sudden change of subject. "It just arrived."

"But I bet you've already read it front to back, haven't you, Hermione?" said Ron, rolling his eyes at her.

"Not yet, but what I'm talking about is on the front page," said Hermione testily.

"More articles about Voldemort?" Harry guessed, completely ignoring Ron's usual wince.

"Well, yes there's that too, but no, listen to this! 'International Confederation Decree Moves Against British Ministry of Magic' and the subheadline, 'New Governmental Reform Committee Sent to "Clean up Corruption" in Ministry,'" read Hermione.

"'Governmental Reform Committee?'" said Ron blankly. "What's _that_ supposed to mean?"

"They're trying to fix up the Ministry of Magic," explained Hermione, "and let's admit it, Fudge really screwed up—"

"You could say that again," said Harry darkly.

"—and the Ministry of Magic _is_ very corrupt. I mean, just look at what happened last year! All those 'Educational Decrees' and that horrible Umbridge woman!" finished Hermione.

"But how are they thinking about this stuff when Voldemort's out on the loose! I mean, shouldn't that be more important?" said Harry, getting a bit irritated. Why was it that these so-called adults could never focus on what was important?

"Well, according to the article, it says that the International Confederation was upset about how things were handled at the Ministry of Magic," said Hermione, while Harry picked up his copy of the newspaper article and looked at it. The article was headline news with a large, and of course, moving picture of a group of four people. They were all sitting in chairs against a blank backdrop and looked serious.

"Who are they supposed to be?" Harry wondered out loud.

"The Committee of course, it says so in the article," said Hermione quickly, "and they're all American—"

"American!!?!" Ron yelped. "Why Americans?"

"What's wrong with Americans?" Harry asked, feeling that this must be some facet of the wizarding world that he _still_ didn't know and _still_ hadn't bothered to find out about. After all, Hermione as a complete Muggle-born always knew more than him.

"Well," said Ron, now looking a bit uncomfortable. "They're not…very nice," he finished, rather lamely.

"Now Ron, you know that that's a ridiculous assumption to make!" said Hermione at once, sounding thoroughly irritated. "I know that there's a lot of bad blood or whatever between British wizards and American ones, but honestly!"

"I thought Britain and America were on good terms," said Harry, confused.

"That's Muggle Britain and Muggle America you're talking about, mate," said Ron, ignoring Hermione. "But wizarding world wise, it's not quite that way."

"Maybe because wizards are far more stubborn than Muggles," said Hermione under her breath, yet quite audible all the same.

"So how come Britain and America don't like each other?" asked Harry.

Hermione waited a bit, as if allowing Ron to say something, but he only shrugged. Hermione sighed before saying, "Well, do you remember your history lessons from primary school?" At Harry's half-nod, half-shrug, she said, "It goes along the same ideas, about how America was a colony and the basically unwanted people in Britain were sent away to there. For Muggles, they were the religious factions, entrepreneurs, and convicts.

"For wizards, however, it's a bit harder to send people away and stop them from coming back. The Ministry of Magic had to come up with a special set of spells that would stop them from ever returning to Britain. Of course, the spells didn't apply to their offspring, so they came back and caused the Ministry trouble anyway," said Hermione with a wry smile. "And then the Ministry banished them as well. And then their children returned and caused trouble, especially since they had been brought up knowing that the British wizards had exiled them."

"With good reason, though," said Ron defensively. "They were troublemakers anyway. This was before they built Azkaban, you know. That's how they dealt with most life-sentencings."

"So," continued Hermione, "by the time the Ministry decided that banishing wasn't such a good idea anymore, it was already too late. War had broken out between Muggle America and Muggle Britain, and the banished wizards were enthusiastically helping in any way they could without being too obvious. You know, like hiding troops from enemy eyes, having 'civilians' who had just happened to have seen an army moving to someplace. They were in serious trouble with the International Confederation, since wizards aren't supposed to meddle in Muggle affairs, but they were rebels and outcasts anyway and didn't particularly care. It was awhile before American wizards were allowed to join the Confederation, however." Hermione paused, and looked lost in thought. Harry cleared his throat impatiently. It seemed to bring her out of her reverie.

"Oh right, sorry. So when America finally broke away Britain and formed their own government, the wizards did, too. They formed their own government, modeled it after that Muggle American one, and called it the Administration of Magic. Apparently, the wizarding world has a lot of similarities with the Muggle one over there. They have a lot in common politically and intellectually and—"

"Hermione, I think that's enough," said Ron hastily. "Any more and you might as well read the entire history book to him."

"So what kinds of wizards were sent to America, besides convicts?" asked Harry, a bit curious.

"Oh you know, a whole gaggle of various criminals," Ron said dismissively. "Thieves, political activists, smugglers, annoying lobbyists, black marketers, troublemakers in general. Those who broke some decree or another severely, those who kept using drastic measures to campaign for werewolf, vampire, and troll rights—"

"It wasn't a great period of wizarding history," said Hermione shortly. It was only too clear what side she was on.

"Campaigning for werewolf, vampire, and troll rights…" said Harry slowly. "Hey, that sounds like you, Hermione!" he added with a grin, while Ron burst out laughing.

"Nonsense, I'm not American," said Hermione, turning a bit pink.

"And neither were they when they did it," said Ron, gasping for breath. "I dunno, Harry, these Americans coming over…they might be a bad influence on her. Next thing you know, she'll be getting them to join 'spew.'"

Hermione's eyes brightened. "Now there's an idea…I've never even thought about it! Great idea, Ron! I could send them an owl! I'm sure they'll have ideas and advice about how to further S.P.E.W.!" She was looking positively thrilled at the very thought of it.

"Ron, what have you done?" said Harry in anguish. Now there was no way, and not even a hope, to let "spew" (the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare) to slip quietly away into ambiguity.

Ron's eyes had gone very wide. "What have I done?" He was more than a little frightened at Hermione's sudden burst of zeal. At that moment, something seemed to have been going on wherever Ron was. Harry could hear two loud cracks coming from Ron's half of the mirror.

"Hey Ronniekins, whatcha doing?" came a very familiar voice.

"That's a sure weird picture you're holding…" came another familiar voice.

"Hi Fred and George," said Harry, grinning.

He heard two loud clunks as both of the Weasley twins seemed to have jumped in surprise.

"It speaks!" said Fred, in awe.

"How'd you get your pictures to make sound, Ron?" asked George.

"It isn't a picture, silly, it's a mirror," said Hermione. "As would be obvious."

"Budge up, Ron," said Fred, and Harry saw Ron's face slide, disgruntled, out of the way. Fred Weasley's freckled face came into view.

"Hey Harry and Hermione, neat little thing this is. Where'd you get it?"

"It used to be Sirius's, but Lupin managed to duplicate it," said Harry in what he knew was an uncomfortably detached voice.

"Oh," said Fred. There was a short, strained silence, and then Fred said, "But you know, George, speaking pictures might be something we could look into…Whaddya think? Got a market?"

"Maybe," came George's voice from off to the side of the mirror. "There already are talking portraits and paintings, but those are pretty expensive…Might have to check with Lee and his view on the matter."

"How about the mirror gig? For quick, easy, convenient communication?" Fred sounded out the possible advertisement. "Sort of like Muggle 'cell phones,' only better. We might be able to persuade Lupin to give us some ideas as how to make it work."

"It'll be something new on the market, that's for sure," agreed George. "Won't have to compete with Zonko's for competition, especially if we can get a patent for it. Good when things getting boring in class and maybe a good present for worried mums." George paused. "Well, enough business talk--Ron, Mum says breakfast is ready."

"So you'd better come down," added Fred, "before she throws a fit."

"See ya Harry," said George grinning. There were two sharp cracks, and Fred's face disappeared.

"So where are you anyway?" asked Harry, wondering why Mrs. Weasley couldn't have simple shouted that breakfast was ready.

Ron hesitated before saying, "Same place as last summer."

"Really?" said Harry in surprise. "But…that doesn't look anything like Gri--Grimmauld Place." The words had somehow stuck in his throat.

"Well, we managed to brighten it up a bit. Got more lights set up, lightened up the walls…" Ron's voice kind of trailed off. "Well, I better get going. Talk you to you later, Harry! Bye Hermione!" Ron's face disappeared from view and a couple seconds later, the side with Hermione's face expanded and filled the whole mirror.

After a short pause, Hermione asked carefully, "Harry, are you sure you're all right?"

"Yes, I'm fine," said Harry automatically.

"If you say so," she said, but still looked worried. "Are you going to stay at the Dursleys' all summer?" she asked, after a moment's pause.

"I dunno," said Harry, "I don't really have that many choices, do I? Almost anywhere I would go would put other people in danger, and Dumbledore—" Harry cleared his throat, "And I expect Dumbledore is still having me go everywhere with a guard. So I have to stay here…"

"Or go to Grimmauld Place," said Hermione quietly. Harry wasn't quite sure what to do or say, so he said nothing. "Will you, Harry?" she asked, a bit timidly, when the silence stretched uncomfortably. Harry didn't know. How would he react, going back there? _This is silly_, he told himself sternly, _it's just a place…and Sirius didn't even like it. I really need to get a grip. It's just a stupid place. Besides, it would be great to see everyone again._

"Sure, yeah, I'll probably go there in a couple weeks," said Harry, trying to sound casual.

"Really?" said Hermione, looking startled, but pleased. "I'll probably go, too; I'm sure they could use more help and it's be great to see everyone again," she said, echoing Harry's thoughts.

"Yeah, true," responded Harry. He hesitated before saying, "Hermione, you weren't really serious about writing to the American wizards, were you?"

"Of course I was serious! This could be my big opportunity!" said Hermione with obvious glee.

"Ah, right then," said Harry, more than a little surprised at her vehement response. "Well, I'd better get going. See you later, Hermione."

"Okay. 'Bye, Harry!" said Hermione, and with a little wave, vanished from the mirror.

Harry put the mirror down on his nightstand, smiling at it for a second before going to get dressed. He would write a thank you letter to Lupin after breakfast perhaps, and then maybe put in a hint that he would like to leave Privet Drive sometime in the next couple of weeks. Possibly Lupin would be surprised at the fact Harry would even want to return to Grimmauld Place.

In any case, it wasn't as though he was entirely cut off from everyone like before. He had the mirror, he had news, he was sending and receiving regular owls…Completely forgetting about the silly "Governmental Reform Committee," Harry got dressed and headed downstairs to start another day, very much like every the summer day before it.

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A/N: I think I like dialogue a little too much…that chapter was almost all of that! As usual, I hoped you enjoyed it! Thanks for reading!


	4. The Governmental Reform Committee

Disclaimer: Nope, nothing, nada, zilch. They don't belong to me! Case closed.

I really can't say how happy I am right now! My first week of school went so-so, and it was so nice to check back and see that people reviewed! I won't have as much time to write and all, but I'll try to do what I can. That you so much for reading!!!! (and of course, making that effort to reply)

_Alriadne_: Thanks for reviewing! I have absolutely no idea how you stumbled across this fic, but I'm glad you did! Hehe, not exactly happy with the Bush Administration? I don't have a strong opinion on it, but I do think that they've made some severe errors. I haven't decided whether or not Sirius is going to come back yet. I do love Sirius to death, but I'm trying to make this fic sort of "feel" and "sound" the same way as it does in the books, you know keeping the characters in character and the plot line reasonable. I have to admit, though, that Sirius didn't really go out with glory. I mean, he seriously died laughing—not exactly heroic. Why are you so concerned about Ron? I'll have to admit that he's not really one of my fav characters, but we'll see about his O.W.L.s

_Giesbrecht_: I've always had a curiosity about the U.S./U.K. matter, especially since it seems that Rowling refrains from mentioning the U.S. as much as possible. Well, I suppose country names aren't mentioned a lot in general, but I've found it odd that the word "American" has only popped up once.

_Dragon's Destiny2k2_: Thanks for reviewing this story, too!!! I don't think I've ever received such a compliment as that. Lol, that was so funny when I read that.

BTW, if you're looking for some excellent fanfiction to read after reading this chapter, check out the work of the reviewers! I recommend _Giesbrecht_'s "Some Things Are Better Left Unknown" for a very good, very sad MWPP time traveling fic, _Alriadne_'s "The Insane Rantings of a Chaser" for the unique diary of Katie Bell, _Valarauko_'s "What Was That Title?" for some hilarious short twists of sound-alikes of HP books, and if you have a foot in Hyrule (LoZ) check out _Dragon Destiny2k2_'s fic.

Recommendations such as these are how I usually try to read fics since trying to wade through usually doesn't work. Enough jabber, on to the chapter! sits back and relaxes for a moment before going back to work on her English essay

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Chapter 4: The Governmental Reform Committee

Patience was wearing thin, tension was mounting, and tempers were at breaking point in the Ministry of Magic. It was the seventh of August—the day that the Governmental Reform Committee would be swooping down upon the Ministry and no doubt ruin things for everyone. It was bad enough that the Confederation decided to take matters into its own hands, but it was even worse that they would force the Ministry to be at the mercy of four _Americans_, whom they knew the British despised. The Americans would probably delight in finding every single fault of the Ministry, a way of getting back at Britain.

Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic, paced his office on the first floor, grinding his teeth together loudly. Frustration and annoyance seethed within him. He was being short (tempered, that is, since he was short most of the time too) with his assistants, snappish with his secretaries, and generally unpleasant and annoying. In a few minutes, he would have to go down to the Atrium level to "welcome" the uninvited guests and then give a tour of the Ministry. It was like signing his own death wish or being forced to lock his own cage.

Yes, he somewhat admitted it, he had made a mistake about You-Know-Who being back, but honestly, anyone in his position could make it! There wasn't anything solid that proved that he was back (after all, no disappearances, no torturing, no deaths) for the entire year. Having only one witness is like having no witness at all! Then there was the dratted Dumbledore and Potter making such a fuss, so what else could he do but undermine them? They were nothing but troublemakers, anyone could've thought that. Anyone could've _seen_ that. He scowled. Now everyone was listening to the old geezer and the adolescent (in Fudge's opinion, the two types of people who are the least believable), and he, Fudge, was in the wrong.

No, it simply wasn't fair.

Someone knocked on the door to his office and then opened it a bit. A frizzy-haired witch popped her head in and said, "Sir, the committee is about to arrive. You should probably go down to meet them now." She immediately disappeared again, not wanting to stay too long in the same room as Fudge.

Fudge sighed irritably. He had to fire Dolores Umbridge as his Undersecretary after her blunder at Hogwarts, besides the fact that she did not appear to be quite normal after her run-in with the centaurs. This new one he knew quite well and was sure of her loyalty, except that she just wasn't as helpful as Umbridge was. Dolores always seemed to know what he wanted without even having to ask. Sighing irritably, he straightened his robes and checked himself in the mirror before leaving his office. He had to act politely, with courtesy, and keep under control when he met the committee. Putting on a diplomatically good face like a cloak, Fudge opened the door and left his office for the Atrium.

Amelia Bones, Head of Magical Law Enforcement, was already waiting in the Atrium with Tristan Pence, Head of International Magical Cooperation, when Fudge arrived. Other people going to and fro in the Atrium eyed them speculatively before hurrying on. No one wanted to attract the attention and short temper of the major Department Heads. Madam Bones looked disapproving as usual while talking intently with Mr. Pence, who was promoted after the death/fatal disappearance of Barty Crouch. Both of them looked up when Fudge arrived.

"Ah, Fudge, so glad you could make it in time," said Mr. Pence smoothly. "They should be arriving at any minute. I was arranging matters with Mr. Alvarez, who said they would drop off their bags by their rooms before meeting us here."

"Yes, yes, good good," said Fudge, a bit distractedly.

"And also, I presume you received Mr. Donnelly's letter," continued Mr. Pence. "Mr. Alvarez mentioned it to me."

"Yes, I read through that, too." Fudge straightened his pin-striped cloak again. "It shouldn't be a problem."

"Oh, I don't know about that," asserted Madam Bones, "It might result in some additional trouble for us."

As Fudge and Pence knew perfectly well what she was suggesting, neither of them found it worthwhile to comment.

They only had to wait another minute before the committee arrived. One of the left-hand side fire places emitted a soft _whoosh_, and a wizard appeared, slowly spinning to a halt and then ducking under the mantel and straightening up. The wizard was fairly tall, over middle-aged, and wearing a navy blue set of robes. He wore an expression that was difficult to read before smiling politely and stepping forward. Almost immediately though, and other soft _whoosh_ came from the fireplace and out stepped another wizard. This wizard was younger, but not by a whole lot. His hair didn't have any gray in it, and he was taller and leaner than the first. Three more came out of the fire place, two witches and another wizard, making, in all, a group of five. All of them were wearing the same navy blue robes like the first wizard was wearing.

The two groups of wizards, the newly arrived American ones and the British Ministry ones, eyed each other for a moment, sizing the other side up, before the first wizard who had come from the fireplace said, "Hello. Cornelius Fudge, I presume?" At Cornelius's nod and step forward, the American wizard gave a polite smile and continued, "I am Kevin Jones. It is a pleasure to be here."

The American's accent, or perhaps natural lack of fluidity, grated on Fudge's ears. Smiling a bit forcefully, he said, "Oh no, the pleasure is ours to have you here." Of course it didn't actually sound as though he was happy. "Let me introduce you to our major Department Heads. Madam Amelia Bones, our Head of Magical Law Enforcement," said Fudge, stepping aside to let Madam Bones shake Mr. Jones's hand.

"And Mr. Tristan Pence, our Head of International Magical Cooperation," said Fudge. Pence, too, stepped forward and politely shook Mr. Jones's hand, while at the same time eyeing him warily.

"Now, perhaps, it is my turn to make some introductions," said Mr. Jones, with that same, polite, yet empty smile. "Allow me to introduce _our_ Head of Magical Law Enforcement," Fudge definitely noticed the stress on 'our,' "Mr. Scott Adams." The second wizard, with short brown hair, stepped forward and shook hands vigorously. His demeanor was altogether friendlier than that of Mr. Jones's, whom Fudge already disliked.

"Our Head of International Magical Cooperation, Mr. Dan Alvarez," continued Jones. A wizard, shorter than the other two, but perhaps a calmer bearing, stepped forward. He, like Mr. Adams, shook hands. Though he was short, Alvarez was not on the pudgy side like Fudge and also had darker skin.

"Ms. Rebecca Ming, one of the most prominent members of _our_ Wizengamot," again, Jones added that emphasis. A short woman with straight black hair and dark, narrow eyes stepped up. Fudge thought to be wary of her, since her brisk handshakes reminded him of an unpleasant cross between Madam Bones and Professor McGonagall. 

"And finally, Ms. Nicola Donnelly," said Jones. A pretty young witch who couldn't have been any older than seventeen came hesitantly forward and shook hands. She had long, wavy brown hair tied back in a pony tail and a shy smile. She had the look of some delicate beauty, classically both flippant and docile. Her large, light brown eyes suggested that there might be something more than air in her head, however. There might even be fluff. Fudge could already tell that she was going to be a nuisance.

After Ms. Nicola Donnelly shook hands, Mr. Jones continued, "I was hoping to see Dumbledore here today. I recall requesting a couple words with him."

"Dumbledore's a busy man, Mr. Jones," said Fudge, working to keep his voice even, "No doubt he had some prior engagement. I'm sure he'll drop in at some point."

"I'm sure he will," said Jones, inclining his head politely.

"Well," said Fudge, smiling slightly, but without effort. If Jones wanted to play this game, so could he. "Shall we start our tour, then?"

Nicola Donnelly had thought that it would be a struggle to pay attention while they were at this British Ministry of Magic, but now she saw how mistaken she was. Smoothing back her hair, she tried listen to what the adults were saying, but it was far more interesting to take a look around. Every floor they toured was almost more fascinating than the one before it. She was amused by the differently colored Interdepartmental memos that flapped around the elevator and departments. At the government back home, such papers would be sent through chutes and arrive at people's desks. The thought of paper airplanes flapping about like birds made her smile.

Nicola especially liked the Department of Magical Games and Sports, where everything was covered with various posters of Quidditch teams and players. She loved watching Quidditch, but it was a pity that American teams weren't quite up to par with the European ones, due to the general fascination with Quodpot. Shaking her head, she sighed. How could a silly game such as that ever compare to the excitement of Quidditch? It was rather like soccer and American football for the Muggles. She always winced whenever there were international Quidditch games and America had to play a team from the Old World. Though they didn't all do badly, such as the Sweetwater All-Stars, it was still nice if they could put a good national side together. She definitely hoped to see a match while she was here in England.

What really surprised her was the casual attitude of many of the departments they walked through. There was a friendly buzz and chatter in the air before the committee walked by; then everything would be silent and serious for several moments before normalcy resumed. Nicola had hardly ever seen such a casual atmosphere in a government—but perhaps only the lower departments acted like that, surely the ones farther up would be more serious. However, she found that she was mistaken, since the order of the department levels did not seem to make a whole lot of sense.

Tearing her eyes away from a goblin who was shaking his head and talking loudly to presumably a client, Nicola listened in to what the adults were saying. They were currently touring the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures on the fourth floor.

"So, as you can see, each Department is laid out with a Head of Department, who has his or her subordinates, and then Heads of each division of the Department, with their own subordinates," Fudge was saying to the committee. Nicola could see them already writing on conjured clipboards. Guiltily, she followed the suit and conjured one and a quill with ink for herself. She was allegedly supposed to be helping the committee out, though she doubted that she would observe anything that the four of them had not already spotted. None of the committee members said anything, but she could have sworn that Mr. Addams gave her a small wink when she finally pulled out her own quill.

"Once every three and a half weeks we have regular board meetings where all the Heads are present," continued Fudge in his British accent. Nicola found British accents funny, but cool to listen to. "During which, we discuss possibilities for new legislation."

"Who actually makes the new laws?" asked Mr. Alvarez politely. "That is, who makes the laws actually laws?"

"That would be the Minister," said Fudge, "supported, of course, by the members of the executive office."

"I see," replied Mr. Alvarez, and Nicola did not need to even look at his clipboard to know what was being written. Lessons in government had been drummed into her by her father, so, almost reflexively, she wrote, _Lack of checks and balances. Laws only made from executive branch. Little to none veto power. Legislative/Congressional branch missing._

After making a complete trip of the fourth level, they re-entered one of the twenty golden elevators. _No, not elevators, lifts_, Nicola corrected herself, _when in Britain, do as the British do_. Continuing to the third floor, the lift doors opened while a woman's neutral voice said, "Level three, Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes, including the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad, Obliviator Headquarters, and Muggle-Worthy Excuse Committee."

Nicola wondered what on earth the last one was supposed to mean. Why would one need a committee to decide what excuses were Muggle-worthy? Perhaps she was misinterpreting what it meant. Noticing what department they were on, she supposed that the committee must think up of cover-stories to hide accidental or flagrant uses of magic. Yes, that's what they probably did.

When the elevators opened a while later to the second floor, Nicola frowned. This was the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, according to the voice, and also the second level. The first level must be Fudge's own office and his so-called "executive branch." Where then, was the infamous Department of Mysteries? _Perhaps it isn't even in this building_, thought Nicola. _It might be so special that it gets a secret, separate building all to itself_. However, her father had insisted that it was indeed, in the Ministry of Magic.

However, her musings were interrupted when they passed by a group of cubicles. With distaste, she read the lopsided sign of "Auror Headquarters." Such a casual atmosphere for the most elite of law enforcement! Neatness might not be a virtue, but it did count. She noted a wizard languidly putting his feet up on his desk while leafing through a file and another shooting a completely ordinary paper airplane across the walkway into another cubicle. Inside of another cubicle there were various wrappers from candy and empty disposable coffee cups lying around.

Suddenly, the wizard with his feet up and reading a file called out over the wall of the cubicle, "Hey Harry, are you sure we don't have any more files on Karkaroff? I was sure there was more somewhere in that right side cabinet…"

Nicola looked to where the wizard was looking, and felt as though her heart had skipped several beats in surprise. Walking along one of the cubicle aisles with his arms full of parchment was a teen with untidy black hair and glasses. She couldn't see his face, but Nicola would have bet any number of Galleons as to who it was.

It was Harry Potter.

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A/N: That probably wasn't much of a surprise, was it? You knew I would have to sneak him in somehow, no? Ah well, you'll find out more next chapter!

BTW, I snuck in a line from a David Eddings book, the one about neatness—a great series, if you like reading fantasy books.


	5. Harry Potter: Filing Extraordinare

Disclaimer: Guess what? Still own nothing!

Once again, thanks to all readers!!!!

_Alriadne_: Hmmm, is Ron supposed to have blue eyes? shrugs I think he's a pretty good character, but not exactly one of my favs--he can just be so woefully dense (maybe that's part of his charm). I'm glad to have your say (and support) in the Sirius matter. Let's just say I'm taking it under consideration. =)

_jeff_: Thanks for reading! I hope you stop by again.

_Valarauko_: I'm always happy to be of assistance. Being mentioned always gives a warm fuzzy feeling, no? I sort of decided to write this fic more about the Ministry just because we have seen so little of it until OoP. Now that we know more, why not elaborate? The Ministry's not a bad setting for stuff to happen.

_Dragon's Destiny2k2_: You really crack me up. Thanks again for reading! (and the book's not coming out until after the GoF movie's made, need to time the press releases, you know)

Sorry it's been so long since the last update. Sophomore year sucks, but I suspect junior and senior years will be worse. So here's a nice long chapter to chew on before the next update that won't be for another long while.

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Chapter 5: Harry Potter: Filing Extraordinaire

_I still can't believe I'm doing this_, Harry thought to himself when he returned to the filing room. _I'm filing papers Muggle-style when there's probably a spell that will alphabetize them all on their own. _

The filing room was a rather smallish room with nothing but filing cabinets that reached the ceiling, a sturdy wooden stool, a derelict old table, and a chair with four out of five wheels on it. It was a cramped sort of place, yet still bigger than Mr. Weasley's office. This room held only a chunk of the files of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, mainly ones dealing with capital crimes. The files included dossiers of suspected wizards and witches, trial reports, and records of various cases. Thankfully, this room didn't have records from more than a couple decades ago, or else he'd be filing and sorting for the next dozen years.

When Harry started this job a couple days ago, the filing room was a complete mess. Either there really _wasn't_ a spell to file papers or nobody had ever bothered. In any case, files had been strewn over the table and on top of pulled-out drawers. Various stacks littered the floor since there wasn't enough room in the actual cabinets. When Harry had finally dared to pull open one of the drawers, he had been smacked in the face by a previously squashed stack of parchment. 

Sighing, Harry now put the stack of parchment down on the table and went to the file cabinets on the left wall to dig through the K's section. It really was a bit of a hopeless mess, especially since he had only finished organizing the C's earlier this morning. After finding nothing more on Karkaroff in the left wall cabinets, which contained people's dossiers, he checked the trial reports on the wall opposite of the door and case records on the right-hand wall. Rifling through the drawers, he pulled out some more papers, at the same time thinking, _Why bother? Voldemort has probably killed him already_. But if Williamson wanted more files on Karkaroff, let him waste his time.

Harry sighed. He supposed that he should be somewhat happy that he was working in the Aurors' Headquarters since he wanted to be an Auror when he left Hogwarts, but like living at the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix, the actual reality of it was far less exciting. Four days ago, when he had gone down to breakfast early, the adults had approached him, suggesting for him to work at the Auror Headquarters in the Ministry. Harry, of course, was a bit surprised at it, especially since he had been confined to either the Dursleys or Grimmauld Place for so long. He wondered exactly why they suddenly let him, even encouraged him, to leave Grimmauld Place during the day and go to the Ministry of Magic.

Things had seemed normal enough when Harry left the Dursleys two days before his birthday. He had left Privet Drive in a similar fashion as he last year, escorted on broomstick to Grimmauld Place, London (this time, Harry remembered to put on a jacket before taking off). Grimmauld Place looked just as he had remembered it from the outside: old, grimy, and dark. Inside, however, it was obvious that some major refurbishing had been done during the last month. The snake-decorated ornaments and items had been removed, replaced with tastefully plain, and in Harry's opinion, normal ones. The walls were no longer dark and peeling; instead they had been painted white, giving the impression of open space and light. Almost all of the portraits lining the hall had been forcibly removed, except for the one of Mrs. Black, which, Harry supposed, they still couldn't figure out how to take down.

Grimmauld Place didn't feel like the building he had spent last summer and during the holidays. It was an entirely different place now, completely unrecognizable from the dark gloom in which he had spent some of his last moments with Sirius. Harry hadn't even seen Kreacher anywhere, and was glad, since he probably couldn't stop himself from strangling the wretched house-elf.

His birthday, a couple days later, seemed like an altogether strange affair as well. It wasn't as though his birthday was depressing; it really wasn't. He got several presents, including an assortment of candies from Honeydukes from Hermione, a gift certificate to WeasLee's Wizarding Wheezes from Fred and George, and a book called _Around the Quidditch World in 80 Pages_ from Ron. He was surprised when he got a present from Ginny, a stuffed animal that was a snowy owl like Hedwig. The real Hedwig looked at it suspiciously, as if it was making fun of her, but Harry liked it. Mrs. Weasley had even baked a delicious cake and it was altogether more fun than the previous summer. But for some reason, Harry could not pinpoint what made it feel slightly off-center. Was it because his birthday reminded him of the prophecy that still gave him the creeps? Or was it because, yet again, that Sirius was not there? Harry couldn't decide which. During dinner that night, he noticed Ron and Hermione whispering with each other, probably, he considered, wondering why he didn't look or act as happy as he should.

The next couple of days after his birthday went fairly well. Like last summer, they had continued "cleaning" or decontaminating of number twelve, Grimmauld Place. Though one might not have guessed from its dingy outside, it was really the size of a mansion with many hallways and floors. Besides cleaning out the rooms, they had also started the redecorating of some of the back rooms, like Harry had seen when he had first arrived. He could only imagine what Mrs. Black's reaction might be to the change in décor since Lupin had magically sealed the moth-eaten curtains together.

Little did Harry know of a conversation that took place between the adults late one night after Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny had been sent to their rooms. Lupin sat next to Tonks at the kitchen table, looking tired and occasionally rubbing his eyes. Moody was seated at the far end, periodically taking sips from his hip flask. Mrs. Weasley was busily washing up in the kitchen, while her husband sat across from Tonks. A couple of old _Daily Prophets_ lay haphazardly on the table next to a pitcher of water. There was a silence around the room, more due to weariness than to awkwardness. It was when Mrs. Weasley had finally wiped her hands on a towel and taken a seat next to Mr. Weasley when Lupin finally spoke.

"I don't know if it was such a good idea to bring him here," Lupin said, lifting his head up off the hand he was resting it on.

Nobody needed clarification on this comment. Mrs. Weasley frowned. "Oh, so _now_ you admit it! I insisted that it wouldn't do any good for him to come back here, of all places—"

"It was his own choice, dear," said Mr. Weasley, carefully wiping his glasses on his robes. "Harry actually asked to return, remember?"

"Yes, that's true, but I think it's doing him more harm then good. He needed more time," said Mrs. Weasley. It was obvious that she had been dying to say this ever since Harry had arrived.

"Personally, the sooner he gets over it, the better," said Moody, with his usual growl, "It won't do him or us any good if he broke down during a crisis."

"Oh, so that's all that matters, is it?" said Mrs. Weasley, her voice starting to rise. "Alastor, he's still human! He's still a--"

"Molly, haven't we been through this before?" spoke up Tonks wearily, not many traces of her usually perky self left. "He's not a child anymore. I'd think you of all people would've had practice realizing when children aren't children anymore."

"The problem is, Harry's always been independent and self-reliant," said Mr. Weasley loudly, cutting back his wife's predictable reply. "And given his childhood, he's had to be. He's used to taking the initiative. Remember back when he was a second year? How he and Ron went into the Chamber? By themselves? They didn't even tell Minerva or another teacher."

"They did tell Lockhart," said Lupin, something of a grin on his face.

"Okay, they didn't tell any teacher worth telling," amended Mr. Weasley, also smiling wryly. "The fact of the matter is that Harry can't leave a mystery well alone. If someone doesn't tell him, he and the other two will find out on their own. The three of them combined have more curiosity than all of Arabella's cats. The problem last year was that we didn't figure this out soon enough."

"There are a lot of things we could've done differently last year," said Lupin, sounding worn out. "Not only concerning Harry."

"Sorry, Remus," said Mr. Weasley quietly.

There was a moment of fragile silence before Lupin said, "Don't worry about it." He poured himself a glass of water and took a sip. "We've all dealt with loss before."

"But Harry hasn't," said Mrs. Weasley firmly. She hadn't spoken for awhile.

Lupin snorted derisively and choked on the water. He coughed several times, apparently unable to speak. Tonks hit him on the back a couple times before saying, with a frown, to Mrs. Weasley, "What d'you mean?"

"I mean, that this is the first time Harry's had to deal with a personal loss. Someone he knew very well," she added when it looked like Tonks was about to point out the obvious.

"I'd say the Diggory boy would be along those lines as well, Molly," growled Moody.

"Molly, what is the point you're trying to make?" said Lupin finally.

Mrs. Weasley took a deep breath. "Harry's not coping well and I think spending all his time here isn't helping. We need to get him out and about for a bit."

"Are you sure his detachedness is because of Sirius?" said Lupin, a bit bluntly. As no one responded, he continued, "I think it's more to do with what Dumbledore told him. That's not exactly the sort of thing anyone can just take in stride."

"He still needs to spend time elsewhere," Mrs. Weasley insisted.

"Like where?" asked Tonks. "Back to the Dursleys? Even I wouldn't like to go back there."

"Of course not the Dursleys," said Mrs. Weasley, waving a hand dismissively.

"Then where? There aren't any other places that are secure enough to satisfy Dumbledore or you, Mad-Eye," added Mr. Weasley to Moody.

"Damn right, there isn't," agreed Moody, taking another swig from his hip flask.

"Alastor," said Mrs. Weasley in a conversational tone, "wouldn't you agree that having Aurors around provides safety?"

Moody looked suspiciously at her for a moment. When he couldn't find anything wrong with the question, he answered, "I would have to agree."

"And," continued Mrs. Weasley in an innocent-seeming voice, "the more there are, the better?"

Moody could tell she was up to something, but said anyway, "You can never have too many eyes out."

"And how about a place where you can't Apparate or Disapparate? Aren't those also safer?" asked Mrs. Weasley with that innocuous air.  

"True enough," agreed Moody. "Though, of course, it's not fail safe," he added in a low growl.

"Oh, of course," Mrs. Weasley agreed amicably. Nonchalantly, she picked up one of the old copies of the _Daily Prophet_ and, idly-seeming, flipped through it.

Lupin and Tonks were both watching this exchange with interest. Mr. Weasley tried not to smile, taking off his glasses again to clean them. He could tell when his wife was trying to maneuver someone into a corner.

"And which places have we decided You-Know-Who's not likely to attack right now?" said Mrs. Weasley. "Since he hasn't gotten his old army back?"

After a moment of considering again, Moody said, "Hogwarts, of course. St. Mungo's we considered an unlikely target, but unfortunately, too bloody easy to infiltrate. The _Daily Prophet_ headquarters, but of course, no real reason to attack that either. Ministry's probably next safest after Hogwarts: a big target, but a costly one. Especially after last June's events," Moody gave a lopsided smile. "Only Apparation points are in the Atrium, too," he added as an afterthought.

"Precisely," said Mrs. Weasley. Beaming, she tossed the Daily Prophet on the table with a certain page folded out. Lupin, Tonks, and Mr. Weasley leaned forward to read it. Even Moody grudgingly slid from his end of the table to see what it said.

It was an advertisement like the one Harry had noticed in his bedroom two weeks ago. Superimposed on a picture of the Fountain of Magical Brethren, the text read:

_Thinking of joining the Ministry of Magic? _

_Considering a career in the government? _

_Owl us today for opportunities of internships at the Ministry of Magic—must be fifteen or older to apply._

"Are you crazy?!!?!" exclaimed Tonks, looking up at Mrs. Weasley, her mouth half open.

Lupin looked up also. "You can't be serious, Molly. Internship at the Ministry?"

"Well, why not?" said Mrs. Weasley defensively. However, she seemed to have expected their reactions. "Harry won't have to spend all of his time inside Grimmauld Place, and he can have a taste of his possible career choice."

"Career choice? I wouldn't think he'd want anything to do with the Ministry after last year," said Lupin in surprise.

"You don't know?" said Mrs. Weasley, her turn to be surprised. "Remember what Minerva said to us? About what Harry had chosen for a possible career during their counseling last term?"

Lupin shook his head and shrugged, Tonks and Mr. Weasley also looking blank, but curious. However, it wasn't Mrs. Weasley who answered, it was Moody.

"He wants to be an Auror."

A tense silence swirled around the table as the full weight of the statement settled in.

"Well," said Lupin, in an oddly hoarse voice, "that almost figures, doesn't it?"

"You could say that," said Mr. Weasley, trying to smile.

"If he's really serious about it…" began Lupin.

"…then it makes sense to give him a chance," finished Mrs. Weasley firmly. "Let's get him this internship at the Ministry until he goes back to school."

"Now hold on one second--" began Moody.

"Of course he won't do field work, Alastor," said Mrs. Weasley exasperatedly. "He'll just have a taste of what the office side of it is like."

"Mad-Eye, it really isn't such a bad idea," said Tonks brightly. "There's always a bunch in the office these days, doing suspect research. And," she added, smiling mischievously, "there is that filing room that's a mess…"

"You only want him there so you can shirk _your_ filing duties," said Moody, looking askance at Tonks. "I remember perfectly well that the newer Aurors have to work in there."

"So do you two think it would be safe enough? Security wise?" asked Mr. Weasley, frowning slightly.

"Definitely!" said Tonks enthusiastically.

"Yeah…I'd have to admit that it's fairly secure," said Moody reluctantly a moment later. "Of course, we have to get it cleared by Dumbledore…Now that should be interesting."

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A/N: Thanks, as usual, for reading! Surprised? Or was it really that transparent?


	6. Hazards to Your Health

Disclaimer: Same as all the others.

Thank you again to all my readers! =) I definitely appreciate the reviews. 

_RoseRed13_: I'm glad you liked the whole government wrangling. Ever since OotP, I've taken an interest in it. Thanks for reading!

_Xerios_: Thanks so much for reading! I'll be sure to check back to your story as well (more Death!). And thanks for the cookie. *bakes Xerios a cupcake*

_AgiVega_: Wow, thanks for taking the time to read (and review). Don't worry about offending America or Americans, I think we have a crazy government as well. What wasn't clear was if Harry had to get two O's for Potions in order to get to NEWT, so I sort of leave it up in the air. Gosh, I feel sorry for you about the filing. I took a summer job a couple summers back as a filer in a legal office. All I did was re-label folders and alphabetize, so I can relate. You know, I've never actually read that book, but it's still impressive that that's the first one you read in English. 

_Wood's secret lover_: I'm glad you found it amusing. =) Yeah, I just didn't think it would seem right if Harry got E's and O's for everything, he's not supposed to be perfect like Hermione. Thanks so much for reading!

_kingmaker_: Thanks! I'm glad that you think that I've kept the characters in-character. Ah, but aren't we Americans the laughingstock of the world at times? (maybe it's just California) And about the names…I didn't notice until you pointed them out! Scott Adams as the Dilbert cartoonist! I never even noticed, though I read the Dilbert comics nearly every day. I thought I created the names randomly. =) Lovely. So I have more work to look forward to, hmmm? Thanks again!

A/N: In case you get confused, this beginning of this chapter is still in flashback mode, taking place before the committee arrives. 

Oh and for those people (Valarauko and Alriadne) who were interested in Ron's O.W.L. grades (and I can't for the life of me think why) they'll be making an appearance in this chapter. I actually hadn't thought of putting them in at all, but since you people were interested…why not? =) 

So here's a nice long chapter to make up for the lack of updates.

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Chapter 6: Hazards to Your Health

It was the third of August when the adults had proposed for him to have an internship at the Ministry. All of them, even Moody (to Harry's surprise), seemed to think that it was a good idea. But Harry couldn't figure out why. Did they think he was getting depressed? Or cooped up? There was something tense about the way the adults had presented this idea to him. Harry mulled it over until he got a chance to speak with Ron and Hermione about this and see what they thought. 

In the early afternoon they were working in the library. Harry could see Hermione itching to open a book and take a seat in one of the old leather armchairs. However, their task was to try to clean out the fungus, mold, dry rot, and dust from the books shelves, books, tables and chairs. The library was really rather extensive for a private owner, but perhaps one of Sirius's ancestors was a scholarly type. 

They had only just begun to clean when Hermione said abruptly, "Harry, something's been bothering you all morning. What is it?"

Ron, who, of course, hadn't noticed anything different about his friend's recent pensiveness, looked at both of them, confused. Harry didn't answer for a moment, and his two friends thought that he wasn't going to answer at all. Then he said, as abruptly as Hermione, "They, Mrs. Weasley, Lupin, Tonks, all of them, suggested something to me. They want me to take up an internship at the Ministry."

Ron and Hermione exchanged surprised glances. "An internship?" said Ron, looking askance, "How come?"

"That's what I'm wondering right now," said Harry, dusting off a table. "I mean, how come they're suddenly _encouraging me to _do_ something? Before, they never let me leave Grimmauld Place, or the Dursleys, or even Hogwarts. Even going to King's Cross required an escort! Why now?"_

Hermione looked thoughtful. "Maybe that's just it. They _want you to get out and about."_

Harry looked at her blankly. "What d'you mean?"

"I mean," said Hermione, in a stronger voice, "they don't want to repeat their mistakes. They don't want you cooped up like last summer, or how Sirius was. And speaking of him, they probably don't want you spending all of your time here in case you get, well, depressed or something."

Harry started to feel annoyed. "So they think I'm not 'coping well,' is that it? That I can't handle it?" he said through gritted teeth. "So you think _that's_ why they've been skirting around the issue when I'm around. They think I'm going to break down?"

Hermione pressed her lips together before saying, "Yes, most likely."

He threw his duster on a nearby chair in disgust. "You know, I'm doing just fine. Really," he added crossly. "But when they say, when they _insist, that I'm not 'coping' or 'recovering'—that's about the most annoying thing they could possibly suggest."_

"I bet Mum put them up to this, she's been more and more overprotective recently," said Ron. 

"And can you blame her?" Hermione asked. "She's just worried about losing the people she loves."

Harry though about that for a moment, remembering the time last year with the boggart. It had turned into the things Mrs. Weasley was the most afraid of—her whole family dead. _Well, and me,_ thought Harry, amending his previous thought. It chilled him, thinking that it was a very possible future. Thinking back to that night, right before September first, he realized that the boggart did not turn into Ginny. He couldn't figure out why this bothered him.

"But why would Dumbledore go along with this?" doubted Harry out loud. "I mean, it was _him_ who insisted on all the security."

Hermione seemed to have an answer for this, too. "Maybe," she said, "he's trying to make it up in some way. Perhaps, he feels guilty? Dumbledore's a funny man, maybe he really does think it'd be a good idea as well."

"But it's the _Ministry_. Do either of you really forgive them already, after what happened last year?" Harry looked at both of them. "The leaning on the _Daily Prophet, Umbridge, the whole cover up, Umbridge, the Educational Decrees--"_

"And Umbridge," finished Ron. "Whatever happened to her anyway? After being chased away by Peeves and McGonagall's walking stick?"

"Unclear," said Hermione, wrinkling her nose as a waft of dust blew into her face. "I don't think she became mad, you know—not like Lockhart anyway."

"Perhaps demoted?" suggested Harry.

"Maybe," said Hermione. "Fudge isn't likely to keep her on after what happened."

"You know what we should've done?" said Ron, smirking. "We should've thrown her into the lake when we had the chance. Or maybe introduce her to some of Lupin's friends…"

Harry laughed. Hermione looked as though she didn't quite approve, but didn't say anything.

Ron spoke again. "So, this internship. Did they say where you would intern at?" asked Ron with interest. 

Harry hesitated before saying, "Auror Headquarters."

"Oh, I get it," replied Ron, suddenly not sounding very enthusiastic. The easy, joking atmosphere that had come with the topic of Umbridge had vanished. The red-haired teen looked away and continued scraping mold off the spines of the books. Harry could see the whole jealousy thing creeping into Ron's voice. It was Harry who got asked, it was Harry who always got to do things and go places, it was always Harry. Not Ron. 

Hermione saw it too, and was worried. She hated it when they were fighting, especially over something that couldn't really be helped. Harry never asked for it and Ron wasn't the type who'd make a fuss just to get it. 

The three worked in silence for a couple minutes before Hermione said, "Harry, if you can, you should do it. It'd be great experience, a good opportunity, and you'll have a taste of what it might be like. I'm sure Ron and I can deal with it," she added, throwing a look over at Ron's back. 

"Yeah, perhaps," said Harry, noncommittally. On one hand, he really didn't want to get into more arguments with his friends, especially Ron, but on the other, he really wanted to intern there, despite his antagonistic feelings toward the Ministry. Well, maybe not the Ministry itself, he was more pissed off at Fudge. And Umbridge. 

Ron seemed to have come to a decision. Turning around finally, he said, "Yeah, Harry, you really should. Don't pass this up just so you won't upset me. It's not your fault, mate."

Harry looked up from the table. "Are you sure?"

"'Course I'm sure. Don't be an idiot," was all Ron said. 

*********************

That night when Harry and Ron were both getting ready for bed, Harry asked, "Ron?" They were in the old bedroom they had used last summer, though Harry wasn't entirely thrilled about this. The blank, grime covered portrait on the wall still carried, as far as Harry knew, Phineas Nigellus in its frame. And as Phineas also had a portrait in Dumbledore's office at Hogwarts, Harry didn't like the idea of being spied on. But so far, Harry had heard nothing, no derisive chuckle coming out of Phineas's portrait. Was he still looking for Sirius?  

"Yeah?" said Ron distractedly. 

"What _did_ you get on your O.W.L.s?" asked Harry curiously. 

Ron's ears turned red. "Well, if you must know…"

"Oh come on, Ron, they can't be that bad," said Harry reassuringly. "You failed Divination, right?"

Ron nodded. Harry continued. "How about History?"

"A pass," said Ron, shrugging. 

"Well, that's not too bad, I failed mine," said Harry, smiling slightly. "Astronomy?"

"Passed that, too."

"Okay then," said Harry. "How about Care of Magical Creatures? I'm sure you did pretty well on that."

Ron gave a weak sort of grin. "Well, yeah, that's true. I got an E and even an O in that."

"Hey, that's great! Herbology?"

"An E."

"Charms?"

"An E and an A," said Ron. 

"That's still great," said Harry firmly. "Transfiguration?"

"Two E's," said Ron. 

"That's really good! I got that, too. Potions?" asked Harry apprehensively. 

"A pass and an E," Ron said, not looking at Harry. 

"Okay," said Harry, feeling disappointed himself, "how about Defense Against the Dark Arts? You had better have done well at that," he added.

"Well, yeah that's true, I did do really well for that, but…I didn't get the grades I needed to get into the N.E.W.T. classes. I'm not sure what I'm going to do now," said Ron, sounding thoroughly down. 

"It's not so bad. No, really. There're still a lot of things you can do…" Harry's voice kind of trailed off. He knew he wasn't sounding very reassuring. "Look, it really isn't the end of the world." 

"I don't care, just, forget it, all right?" Ron obviously did not want to talk more about the subject. He turned away and got into bed. 

"All right, fine," said Harry, climbing into bed after turning out the light. He hoped that Ron would be less sullen in the morning. (A/N: Just a helpful note to tell you the flashback's over)

Harry shook his head, hoping to clear it of reminiscences. _Enough dwelling on how I came to do this, he thought to himself. Picking up the files on Karkaroff and casting a dark look at the rest of the slapdash files tumbling over each other, he left the filing room. _

*********************

Nicola realized that she was gawking and immediately looked away, resuming a more dignified expression. She looked back to their small group and noticed how the Minister was pointedly looking away from the room that Harry had just disappeared into. They turned a corner, went through a couple of double doors, and down a long hallway, this time, Madam Bones explaining things in her polite, yet uncomfortably booming voice. 

When they were about to turn around and head back to the lifts, Nicola noticed a distinctly shabby corridor. She wouldn't have given it much of a second thought if she hadn't heard voices talking, coming from a door that was slightly ajar. 

Ever so politely, she raised her voice and asked, "Excuse me, Madam Bones, but what office is down there?" She pointed down the corridor questioningly. 

Madam Bones turned toward her, monocle and all. She seemed surprised that she had spoken up. "That is our Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office, Ms. Donnelly."

Scott Adams looked interested. "Really? In that dingy corridor down there?" He seemed surprised that such an office would be so far removed from importance. Nicola had to agree. In the Administration, the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts section was one of the busiest they had. 

"We have far fewer problems in that area of law enforcement than you have, I'm sure," said Mr. Pence. "Which is why it is such a small sub-department."

"Perhaps we could have a look now, anyway?" asked Mr. Jones smoothly. "I'm sure my colleagues and I would find it most informative."

Madam Bones had no choice but to comply. Turning back around, she led them down the corridor. Nicola sneaked another glimpse of the Minister, who looked agitated. She then looked at Mr. Adams, who gave her another little wink and look of approval. She smiled back, that is until the smile dropped off her face in shock. 

The office was about the size of a broom cupboard, having barely enough room for two desks, two chairs, and the overflowing filing cabinets lining the walls. The room was windowless, giving the feel of a cell. Nicola frowned. Why should this office be so small when they could have easily expanded it to be bigger? Surely the Ministry weren't wizards for nothing. She saw her fellow Americans taking in the surroundings with equal distaste and making notes. Two wizards were sitting at the desks. One was a stooped over older one and the other was a balding one with horn-rimmed glasses. The latter looked up, looking surprised and obviously not expecting visitors. 

"Hello, Arthur, just giving a bit of a tour," said Madam Bones casually, though Nicola could tell her voice was a bit strained.

"Well, hello then," said Mr. Weasley, quickly recomposing himself. "Er, welcome to the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office." At that moment, however, an Interdepartmental memo zoomed in, nearly hit the tall Mr. Adams, and landed in his in-tray.     

"Well, we must be getting on," said Madam Bones after about a minute. "Thank you for letting us disturb you a bit, Arthur."

"No problem," said Mr. Weasley, now reaching for the memo and reading it. 

The committee and the tour guides filed back out down the corridor. Nicola noticed Mr. Alvarez whispering earnestly with Mr. Adams, who was frowning. Again, Nicola could guess with probably accuracy what they had written on their clipboards. Something along the lines of: _Cramped space----safety issue, lots of papers and parchment----fire hazard, Lack of window----health hazard. Of course wizards really didn't need to worry about fire hazards, but it still was a safety hazard. And even though the window would have magically created sunlight, it was still an issue. Nicola would be surprised if that office got cleared by the Health Administration back home. It certainly didn't follow any building codes. Where were the lawyers when you needed them?_

By the time they had returned to the main room again, with the Auror Headquarters, Nicola could see Harry Potter coming out of the filing room again. _What's he doing?_ she wondered, as he handed a medium-sized file to the wizard who had his boots up on his desk. _Working as some sort of filing clerk? Weird. Realizing she was staring again, Nicola instead looked around at the other Aurors. _

One was a witch who had an eye patch over one eye who was talking in the middle of the cubicle aisle with a tall African-American—_wait, not African-American__,__ it's not __America, thought Nicola, checking herself. _What's the politically correct term then? African-British? Or do they just call them black?_—in any case, talking to a tall, very dark skinned wizard with a gold earring. Across from them was a young woman, probably in her mid-twenties, cleaning up her desk a bit. The thing that was odd about her, however, was the fact she had bright bubble-gum pink hair. Well, Nicola had seen weirder things back home, so she shrugged it off, though inwardly surprised since she hadn't thought stuffy Britains would ever have pink hair. _

Nicola checked her watch, which she had set to British-time. It was nearing one o'clock, and she hoped they would have lunch soon. All this walking made her hungry. As they entered the lifts yet again, Nicola smiled to herself. _My oh__ my, how a lot of things are going to change around here._

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A/N: So, no, sorry, Ron didn't do extremely well, but hey, he didn't do badly either! *ducks under desk while several hazardous objects zoom overhead and crash into wall* It would really just be too cliché if everything always went right. 

I hope some of you saw some of the understated humor there. If not, that's okay too, as long as you enjoyed reading!


	7. Say Cheese

Disclaimer: La dee La dee La, hmmm? Oh yeah, disclaimer, right, don't own anything, enough with that.

The seventh chapter already! Whaddya know? Unfortunately, this one's a bit shorter than the others…

_Alriadne_: Well, yes, Ron does get shunted in the side kick role a lot. However, he doesn't strike me as being observant, industrious, or clever. I hope in Book Six he gets some more character development, he almost seems to have stagnated in OotP. I can't quite seem him as an Auror; I almost feel him leaning toward Charlie's predisposition. Thanks for reading and leaving a review!

_kingmaker_: I was always sort of wondering about the whole PC thing after in one of the books they called Dean black. Glad you found my musings interesting. Hmm, France is a bit ridiculous, that's true.

_AgiVega_: Oh dear! When I wrote that part, I meant to have Ron referring to the other classes, such as potions, not that he didn't make it into the N.E.W.T. DADA class. It's not extremely vital, or anything, but I see how it could have been read that way.

_Xerios_: beats writers block with a softball bat Thanks for reviewing, and I hope you update soon!

Well, enjoy the next chapter, it was sort of amusing to write.

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Chapter 7: Say Cheese!

Rita Skeeter, reinstated Special Correspondent for the internationally renowned _Daily Prophet_, was not in a happy mood. True, her hair looked like she just permed it in careful waves and ringlets. Her nails were straight and immaculately painted. She got a replacement pair of glasses with her new bonus and even a new crocodile skin handbag. Things were definitely looking up. However, she was not in a good mood.

"Hurry up, Bozo," she snapped to her trusty photographer, who was having difficulty keeping up with her brisk pace. Bozo, a large, heavyset man, was wheezing under the combined burden of his large, expensive camera and his own bulk. Rita only had her handbag, with which she desperately wanted to whack somebody.

The _Daily Prophet_ was happy to have her back after her year-long sojourn. Rita merely told them that she was taking a year break, a sabbatical of sorts, when in truth it was due to that wretched Granger. Little Miss Perfect and her silly little threat, which was still over Rita's head, had caused the entirely not wanted break from her journalism. But, as Rita remembered, Miss Prissy had only said one year. Only one year for Rita to "keep her quill to herself."

Rita gritted her teeth at the memory of having to write the Potter boy's interview entirely pro bono. How painful it was to actually _work_ and not get paid! It went against every facet of her being. But, she had to admit, writing it did give her a bit more fame and attention back at the _Prophet_. Sales had shot down sharply last year, especially after the interview was published in _The Quibbler_. So, probably more out of self interest of survival than anything else, the _Prophet_ had welcomed Rita back with open arms. The realistic attitude of the _Prophet_ exactly matched her own—anything to get money. Worrying about the "truth" only got in the way.

Now Rita was back in business. She had even gotten the privilege to write some of the high-profile articles on the Governmental Reform Committee, which, Rita reminded herself, was arriving today. The reason why Rita was, in truth, extremely pissed off was that her informants told her that the committee would arrive at noon, when, in actuality, they entered the Ministry at nine o'clock. The reporter had only discovered this about five minutes ago, and it was almost noon already.

"If you don't pick up the pace, we're going to miss it," she called irritably over her shoulder.

Sighing, Bozo (Bozo Jim, if you wanted to know his full name, but hardly anyone ever does) picked up the pace. It looked like it was going to be another long day.

When they had re-entered the lift after the final tour of the first floor, Nicola was definitely looking forward to lunch. She wondered where they were going to go eat. Perhaps back to the Leaky Cauldron and Diagon Alley? There were some interesting looking restaurants on that fascinating street. Nicola definitely wanted to get a better look at some of those shops, too.

Standing on the lift and feeling it go down, she spied the set of floor buttons, which read from one to nine. She frowned. Hadn't there only been seven levels plus the Atrium level? What was on the ninth floor?

She was just about to ask this when Ms. Ming asked it for her. "What is on the ninth level?" the stern woman asked abruptly.

Fudge already seemed to have an answer for this. "Oh, that's our basement level," he said with false easiness. "Some old courtrooms that we don't use anymore, supply closets for Magical Maintenance, that sort of thing."

Nicola listened closely to this and frowned again. Was that all that was really down there? Her thoughts were cut short when Mr. Pence changed the subject by mentioning lunch. Nicola's ears had defiantly pricked up, especially since she hadn't had anything to eat since breakfast. With the time zone jumping, it was actually much later than her normal, American lunchtime, which made her very hungry indeed. As she listened, she understood that they were being treated to eat at the Ministry dining hall, which was on the Atrium level. When they arrived at the Atrium level, she was eager to get some lunch. The golden grilles slid open and they walked through some double doors. Unexpectedly, she and the rest of the group blinked in the flash of blinding light. Several rapid-fire flashes of blinding light.

"Hello, my name is Rita Skeeter, reporter for the Daily Prophet," said a middle-aged woman with distinct glasses. Her hair was elaborately curled and she was grasping a crocodile skin handbag. This was the only impression Nicola got before the woman was hustled out of the way by an irritable-looking man. The man, clearing his throat loudly, said, "What's your first impression of the Ministry? Have anything to say for the _Diagon__ Journal_?"

Almost immediately after, another woman reporter said loudly, "Ms. Donnelly," (Nicola jumped in surprise), "what do you have to say about fashion sense in Wizarding Britain? _YWM_ would love to print your views."

What a gaggle of reporters! There were at least four more of them, many of whom were shadowed by their photographers, whose cameras emitted puffs of smoke besides flashes of light. Nicola also recognized the insignia of the British WWN on one wizard's robes. She had to stifle a laugh. Media! No matter where you went, it always followed you.

Nicola risked a glance sideways at her superiors to see their response. Ms. Ming's mouth had become a thin line in annoyance while lines of tension appeared around Mr. Alvarez's eyes. Mr. Adams was the only one besides Nicola who looked amused. Mr. Jones openly frowned while throwing a sharp glance at an embarrassed, but infuriated Fudge. Nicola worked to keep from laughing at the interesting shade of red that appeared on Mr. Fudge's face. The other two British officials looked visibly affronted by the display of the reporters.

Fudge threw a glance at Madam Bones, who immediately got the hint that it was, of course, all her fault. Peeved, Madam Bones in turn sent an angry glare over at the security desk, whose employee plainly hadn't noticed a thing. Eric Munch was currently munching on what Nicola recognized as a stack of Cauldron Cakes, undoubtedly to tie him over until dinner. Nicola knew that some people didn't always eat much of a lunch, but right now she could definitely use some.

Eric was still intent of his lunch, until a surreptitious set of sparks flew from Madam Bones's wand and set the Cauldron Cakes' wrappings on fire. With a startled yell, the unkempt security wizard dropped them in surprise. After hastily putting out the fire with his wand, he looked up to find an angry Madam Bones and a plethora of zealous reporters. Recognizing the "you-screwed-up-royally" expression on the Department Head's face, he quickly pressed a dial on his desk to bring in security from the other floors to aid him in clearing out the media.

While Fudge apologized endlessly to the American entourage, more security arrived, coming from various lifts. Under the angry protests of the reporters, Eric and the rest managed to drive them back to the Atrium's entrance, but not before another group entered the Atrium from the double doors with the intention of lunch.

Unfortunately, Rita Skeeter was the first to notice.

Spotting Harry with Tonks and Shacklebolt, Rita Skeeter nudged Bozo hard in the ribs and whispered hurriedly, "You'd better be snapping in two seconds or you'll be sacked in three." 

Bozo didn't need any more persuading than that. After he began to fire away, the other reporters looked around in confusion, angry that they had missed something, though unsure what. Rita smiled her vicious smile. So hard to get photos of that Potter, especially with Dumbledore keeping him away from the public eye as much as possible. Holing him up in god-knows-where over the summer. Keeping reporters from the Hogwarts grounds. But what was he doing here at the Ministry, flanked by two Aurors, nonetheless?

Rita was broken out of her reverie a second later when the foolish _YWM_ (_Your Witches' Magazine_) witch realized what was going on. "Oh my goodness! It's Harry Potter!"

A moment of stunned silence filled the Atrium, where everyone froze at this blatant announcement. Rita wished Bozo had gotten a photo of this. It was almost too comical to be true, the pack of reporters all whipping their heads around to look for Harry, especially the photographers, the security guards looking around in dumb confusion, Harry himself turning around quickly at the sound of his name, Tonks and Shacklebolt whipping their wands out in reflex, Fudge, Madam Bones, and Pence looking even more embarrassed than before, and the Governmental Reform Committee staring at the previously unremarkable boy with expressions of various degrees of interest.

Then all at once, the various groups moved into action.

The rest of the photographers started taking photos, but it was too late already since Harry already turned his head away. The Aurors, still with their wands out, ushered him through the double doors to the dining hall of the Ministry, quickly past the governmental people. The security guards went back into action, freezing the cameras with charms and conjuring a rope banister to block off the reporters. Madam Bones threw another disapproving look at Security before turning back to the Committee, adding her apologies to Fudge's. Pence seemed to murmur something else that Rita couldn't hear, but a moment later, the large group retreated to the dining hall.

Rita was torn between hexing the _YWM_ witch and the rest of the other reporters into next week and cursing the Stupid Security into the week after. She needed to get that article! Glaring angrily at her competing reporters and journalists, she set her mind in ways to thwart the meddlesome Security and Fudge's attempts to keep things quiet. The media had had enough of that! She'd be damned before she let _them_ get in the way! Time, perhaps, for a little Plan B.

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A/N: Don't you love Rita Skeeter? I just had to write her in. Thanks for reading!


	8. Lunchtime Conversations

Disclaimer: Still reading these things? Why? You know what I'm going to say already. (hint: it goes along the lines of "don't own anything")

Thanks to everyone for reviewing! I had meant to update earlier, but I was sort of impeded by the fact that I just had some surgery and have been sleeping 9 out of 10 hours. =) Anesthesia does wonders. And then my computer was quite sick and had several cardiac arrests. And then my files were all apparently deleted. But, everything's fine now, especially since I've been able to stay awake for a whole day like normal, so I thought I should update. 

_Alriadne_: Thanks for reviewing! I think Rita is such a great character, too. I was glad she made an appearance (rather than just a mention like Ludo) in OotP. 

_Xerios_: Still with writer's block? =( I do hope that you get to updating soon. 

_zekkers: Thanks for reading and reviewing! I hope you like the rest of the chapters as well._

_kingmaker_: What's America without the whole freedom of the press issue? ;) Rita's a lot of fun to write, especially with her crocodile-skin handbag. =)

_AgiVega_: Thanks for reading! I like Rita as well, and I was especially glad when she made an appearance in OotP. 

And without further junk, the chapter:

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Chapter 8: Lunchtime Conversations

It was a fairly big shock to walk into the Atrium to see an entire gaggle of reporters. Harry had had enough of them to last a lifetime and then some. Relieved to be in the now somewhat familiar setting of the dining hall was enough to a)settle his nerves, and b)not start a rant about journalists. Tonks looked more peeved than he had ever remembered seeing her, while Kingsley, as usual, remained unperturbed. 

Since it was over a week since he started work, for that's what it really was and he did get a salary, there had been far fewer double takes when people walked by him in the dining hall or on the Department level. This didn't mean that they were by all means extinguished, but the reducing number helped him feel less jumpy. 

They didn't always have lunch in the dining hall, rather, they didn't always have time for it. Mrs. Weasley would often whip up some sandwiches for them to take to work in the morning and they would eat on the job. But when there was time, Harry liked being able to sit down and properly enjoy a meal. The food was scrumptious and the variety was decent, though in former case incomparable to Hogwarts. A wizard kitchen staff made the meals instead of house elves, Tonks had said. Harry didn't see any signs of house elves at the Ministry so far, but it wasn't easy to tell. After all, he had spent three years at Hogwarts without seeing even a trace of their existence there.

Harry, Tonks, and Kingsley waited in line to order either the entrée or something else, like soup. The lunchtime rush was in full swing, with the high-ceilinged dining hall echoing the voices of Ministry witches and wizards. Remembering who they had seen in the Atrium, Harry sent a curious glance at the so-called and so-named Governmental Reform Committee. Hermione had been following the articles on the committee avidly and many had been written by Rita Skeeter. Harry realized that she had been among that gaggle of reporters, journalists, and photographers. He made a mental note to himself to watch out for beetles. 

The group behind them consisted of Fudge, Madam Bones, a wizard Harry couldn't quite place, and five wizards and witches in navy blue robes. Fudge was an interesting shade of puce, from both anger and embarrassment. Madam Bones pointedly ignored him and was talking with the wizard. Harry noticed a couple of the wizards in the navy blue robes, who must be the committee, scribbling furiously on their conjured clipboards.

Four were adults in the Governmental Reform Committee, but one only looked a bit older than him. She couldn't really be part of the committee, could she? _Her eyes look a bit too big for her head_, Harry thought, _kind of like Luna's but not so bulging_. She maneuvered herself subtly in line until she was standing right next to him. Tonks and Kingsley didn't notice. Harry tried not to look embarrassed. 

"Hello," she said with the odd, dull accent of an American that wasn't from the south, Texas, or the east coast. Not that Harry would really know of such things anyway. "I'm Nicola Donnelly." She held out her hand for him to shake. 

_Ok, so she's uncaringly bold like Luna as well_, Harry thought. He reluctantly shook her hand. He didn't think it was necessary for him to introduce himself. 

"Those reporters were quite annoying, weren't they?" she said conversationally. "But we must always tolerate them," she said, suddenly switching to a very serious and grave manner. "On what would our society rest but on the freedom of speech, thereby the freedom of the press?" Harry was forcibly reminded of Ernie Macmillan. It sounded as though that had come straight from a very dull book. "But I supposed you're used to it?" She shot him a glance. 

Her sudden question caught him off guard. He cleared his throat. "Er, not really."

This Nicola seemed undaunted, despite his lack of conversational response. "Well, we certainly saw a lot of you in the _Daily Prophet. It gets sold internationally, you know."_

"Er." Harry tried not to look too surprised. However, she was really starting to irritate him. She sounded as empty-headed as Pansy Parkinson or Lavender, mixed with the worst part of Ernie. But she seemed quite content to carry on a one-sided conversation. 

She lowered her voice to a whisper. "The Ministry really didn't like you last year, did it?"

Harry stared. That comment was blatant, but strangely insightful as well. "You could say that." The both of them moved forward as the line advanced.

"It was fairly obvious," she nodded, seeming satisfied with his answer. "But when Britain says something, one almost _has_ to go along with it."

"Why?" Harry wasn't quite sure what she meant. 

"Don't you know? Britain's fairly prodigious in the wizarding world. Britain has one of the highest concentrations of witches and wizards in the world. Wizarding history goes far back in Britain. Its research center is one of the most renowned, and some of the most important witches and wizards of the last half century," she involuntarily raised her eyes to his forehead, "have come from Britain."

_She almost sounds like Hermione lecturing_, Harry found himself thinking. This caused him to wonder what Hermione would say if she saw him right now, talking to some weird American witch who was on the Governmental Reform Committee and trying to get him to say something. _First,_ _Hermione would probably tell me not to be stupid and say too much. Then she would ask me to give them a letter about S.P.E.W. _

Harry recalled that Hermione had tried sending some owls to them (via one of the adults taking the letter to the post office at Diagon Alley), but they each had returned without a response, letter apparently unopened. Harry grinned to himself at the memory of her frustration, telling her woes to Ron and him while the both of them really thought it was ridiculous. 

Then he realized that she had finished speaking. He floundered for a moment before saying, "Really?" Could he really think of anything stupider to say? 

Nicola nodded vigorously. "But there've been some _rumors about some __stuff that happened and _hasn't_ been reported," she said, placing odd emphasis on certain words. _

"Such as…?" asked Harry, feeling something cold drop into his stomach.

"Such as what happened at Hogwarts," said Nicola in a hurry, losing some of her flippancy. 

Harry breathed a small sigh of relief. For a second, he thought that she was going to mention something about the Department of Mysteries. "A lot of things happened at Hogwarts last year," said Harry finally, being cautious. He also noticed the fact that some of the entourage started to look curiously at the two of them. Tonks and Kingsley, however, were still oblivious. So much for Aurors. "Look," he said, "this isn't a great time or place to be discussing potentially embarrassing Ministry things." He hoped that she would get the picture and shut up. 

She gave him a surprisingly withering look, but got the picture. She turned away from him and instead looked up at the day's menu. 

Harry suddenly wondered why he was defending the Ministry. It wasn't like he owed them any favors. He could tell this Nicola about all the reprehensible blunders of the Ministry, he could reveal all sort of mishaps and gossips—he could put the Ministry publicly to shame. Like they did to him. But there was something holding him back, perhaps a couple of somethings.

One was the fact that most of the hatred and irritation he had for the Ministry had burnt out. Dumbledore's last talk with him had put far more worrisome things into his head, not really leaving room for nursing bitterness or revenge on the _Ministry_. 

Second, he knew that it would be low, something Malfoy would gleefully do without guilt. That sort of petty revenge made Harry feel slightly sick just thinking about it. 

Third, he realized that he didn't want to denounce his own Ministry. He really didn't. Call it nationalism, call it patriotism, call it whatever you want, but he wasn't going to put his own government to shame. Well, not willingly, at least. And definitely not to some random, foreign witch that he had never seen before in his life. 

_Who did she think she was?_ he thought to himself, with a bit of anger. At least he knew that whatever he said to that American witch could, and mostly probably would, go straight to the press. So if she wanted the goods on the Ministry, let her dig somewhere else. 

He remembered what he had said to Ron and Hermione only a few days ago _"But it's the Ministry. Do either of you really forgive them already, after what happened last year?" _Did he just decide to forgive the Ministry of Magic?

_Perhaps not _forgive_ the Ministry, but just come to terms with it, thought Harry. _They're fallible, at times stupid, and definitely unreliable, but not worth the trouble. At least some parts of the Ministry._ He realized that he was smiling to himself a bit stupidly, so he immediately resumed a more neutral expression. And Kingsley and Tonks still hadn't turned around. _

After getting their lunches, Harry, Kingsley, and Tonks found a table near a wall. They always sat near a wall. Harry suspected that it was so they couldn't be attacked from all sides, if, hypothetically speaking, there was an attack. He guessed that Moody put them up to it, unless it was some weird precept from the Auror Training School, or whatever it was called. 

Harry noticed the group of eight (the Ministry officials and the committee) sit down several tables away, but in direct view. He also noticed that that Nicola had arranged it so she could look at him without turning in her seat. Harry stared. What was wrong with that girl? He couldn't quite say that she was mean, not really rude either. Nosy? Inquisitive? Or bad at first conversations? She seemed to carry herself with a poise that said, quite plainly, that she was not about to act differently just because he was Harry Potter. _Now who's getting bigheaded?_ he asked himself, smiling only slightly.  

"So Harry," said Tonks, grinning between mouthfuls. "See you've met Ms. Donnelly over there." She inclined her head toward the American witch. "Didn't tell her anything worth knowing."

"Wha-? You were listening?" asked Harry, surprised. "It didn't even look like you were paying attention."

"Doesn't mean our ears don't work," said Tonks, winking. 

Harry wasn't sure what to say, so he just shrugged. 

"You should be careful around her," said Kingsley, rather laconically. 

"And the rest of the committee?" Harry asked, looking up from his plate at the wizard. 

Kingsley nodded solemnly. Tonks, however, elaborated. "They've been sent here to try to change things. They're going to dig up the Ministry's most recent blunders. They'll do fine on their own without any of our help." She smirked. 

Harry frowned. "But doesn't something need to change? No one could do anything to stop what was going on last year. Don't we want that to change?"

"We definitely don't want a repeat of it, but the change has to come from ourselves, not by some Americans." Tonks cast an uncharacteristically dark look over at their table. "Americans are some of the nosiest and cockiest bunch of wizards in the world, and that committee was sent here just to be that—use their national character of busy bodying to the fullest extent."

Harry stared at her. What was that all about? Did she have something against Americans? It just didn't seem like her to be prejudiced. He had never heard her talk like that before, actually serious. The klutzy witch's little speech reminded him of the time of the Triwizard Tournament, where everyone thought that the Durmstrang students were bad just because they were from Durmstrang. But Krum had been all right, hadn't he? 

Tonks noticed Harry's slightly furrowed brows and said, in a lowered voice, "Dumbledore doesn't want total, rampant chaos here in the Ministry, especially not now. So the less they know, the better we'll be." 

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Nicola was seething. Seething. She definitely liked the sound of that word. It fit her mood right now. Seething with annoyance. Yes, she decided that she was definitely seething. 

She sat down at the table with her ordered lunch, near one of the ends. She had followed her little group to a table a bit out of the way, in order not to cause a huge disruption. People were staring at them enough anyway. It must be the navy blue uniform robes and cloaks. She had told Mr. Adams, days before they had left, that people were going to notice. He, however, gave her a smile and said, "That's the point." 

_Navy blue really isn't my color_, she thought, moodily straightening her robes. _If we were really trying to stand out, we should be wearing neon orange._

She was sitting next to Ms. Ming, and had empty space on the other side of her at their rectangular table. This was also, conveniently, right where she could watch Harry Potter. Nicola noticed his noticing her watching him. But no matter. He should be used to it anyway. 

Mr. Jones was talking politely with Mr. Fudge, inquiring after his wife. Fudge answered with equal, yet distant-sounding, politeness. Nicola could tell that he was fairly good at the very boring qualities of small talk. 

Madam Bones was sitting across from Nicola and Ms. Ming. They were talking of something of small consequence and Nicola couldn't be bothered to make the effort to pay attention. Mr. Alvarez, Mr. Pence, and Mr. Adams were engaged in a conversation about, unsurprisingly, Quidditch vs. Quodpot. Nicola rolled her eyes. It was almost a universal guy thing to talk about sports when other subjects were delicate, such as the debacle out in the Atrium. 

_All governments_, reflected Nicola, _no matter what they say they stand for, truly despise the press_. _Most especially when it is given its own free reign and is thoroughly independent from the government. The press can be a dangerous weapon. However, our government gravely stands by the idea of free speech. This then, makes the embarrassment of the Ministry twofold. One, for letting the press run rampant and unchecked, thereby annoying us, the committee. Two, for forcing them back and not allowing them to speak or come into further contact with us, which should be their right. Nicola smiled. There was another thing to add to the pleasantly growing list.    _

However, she couldn't entertain thoughts of first amendment rights any longer. Not with a steaming plate of food in front of her, anyway. Due to her hunger, Nicola attacked her steak and potatoes with enthusiasm, which were quite delicious. She tried not to look too uncivilized though, or that she had left her manners back in Washington D.C. That wouldn't do. However, she was still seething inside.

She stabbed a potato slice irritably, imagining that it had Harry Potter's face. Who was _he_ to act that way toward her? _Well_, a little voice in her skull reminded her, _he was Harry Potter_. But still! He basically blew her off! Could he have said _anything less informative? "Er?" "Such as?" "Really?" Remembering those words, it almost seemed like they were mocking her. But the question was why, __why, had he not said anything? It wasn't like she was rude. No, she had actually been quite friendly and amiable. If the rumors were true (and she didn't doubt them), he should've had enough anger and resentment to talk to anybody. Especially to an empty-headed teenage American girl. That ploy had always worked in the past. Nobody cares about what they say around a silly girl. _

Well, she hadn't really tried it in a foreign country before.

Or…perhaps he's smarter than he's made out to be. 

_Maybe it wasn't my listening that he was worried about_, she thought, chewing thoughtfully and glancing over at him. _After all, we were right by Mr. Fudge and other important Ministry officials. _Which was true. It would've been a really awkward place for a meaningful conversation.

A little voice inside her head told her that it would probably be fairly easy to get the very same information from any other Hogwarts student. There already had been one trying to send them owls about something termed as "spew." That was fairly annoying, especially since the near-total lack of house elves in America made such an idea ridiculous. When the "law-breaking" old wizarding families were banished to America, they obviously didn't have time to bring their house elves. 

However, she couldn't deny that getting some real information from Harry Potter himself would be a hundred times better. She wondered if this was really about getting some insider information on the British Ministry anymore, like her father asked her to. After all, how many witches in the America, let alone the world, could say that they've actually _met, and _talked to_ Harry Potter?_

_Maybe I'll have to get better acquainted with him before he starts talking_. She smiled to herself. So maybe he'd be a harder nut to crack, but they always did in the end. 

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A/N: Hope you've liked the chapter and enjoyed reading. And just for the record, I would NEVER EVER EVER have Harry fall in love with Nicola. *shudders to even consider it* There. I've said (typed) it. Please review! =) 


	9. Eavesdropping

Yet Another Disclaimer: Still not mine! Don't own these characters, places, and random magical objects.

So, it's been a while since a new chapter, but of course I have all the usual excuses. Plus, I was uncertain where I wanted to go with this fic. So I've looked around for inspiration and now have a pretty good idea how it's going to end. It's different than what I originally planned, that is, just concentrating on Ministry bashing and the Governmental Reform Committee. Now it maybe, just maybe, will have a working plot. So sit back and enjoy and hopefully the chapters will come a bit easier and faster.

BTW, you might have noticed that I re-uploaded some of the previous chapters. That's just because I found some distressing typos that I can't believe I didn't catch the first time around.

_AgiVega_: Thanks for your review! Sorry I haven't had the opportunity to read your fic—I'm definitely going to finish reading it. Okay, so I'm sure you'd have a more sophisticated view of the press than Nicole or me. =)

_kingmaker_: Eh, well, I'm keeping my options open, though that doesn't look to like right now either. Of course Potter would work best! After all, it's Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, not Neville Longbottom and the OotP. =) I'm glad you liked it, thanks for reviewing!

_fiddy_: Thank you for taking the time to review!

_Alriadne_: No, I can't stand original character/Harry pairings. As I said, no way in hell would I have them end up together. They never heard of _that_ conflict? Jeez, well, I'm from CA, and a girl in my government class didn't know that we got a new Governator. =)

_Xerios_: S.P.E.W. is always a good laugh. She may just do that, though…

_Elayne__ Sedai_: Welcome! Thanks for stumbling across this fic and reviewing! Yes, the Bush Administration has done many Fudge-esque things, such as lying to the press and the people, but that is typical in any government that uses its power to achieve its own ends instead of the ends of the people it's suppose to represent. I hated freshman year—sophomore year was better.

_Tomgirl27_: Hey! Thanks for reviewing! For a while I really didn't know how Harry would react, but I settled and had him do that anyway. Of course Voldy's bad, and it's about to get worse…

_Dragon's Destiny2k2_: You pay me too high a compliment, though I'm honored that you would have your mom read this. Thanks for reading and reviewing.

_Sean Mulligan_: Thank you for taking the time to respond. Yes, I'm continuing this and plan on it having an end. It just took a while to find the right direction.

Wow, that was by far the most reviews I've gotten in a single chapter! Thank you all!

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Chapter 9: Eavesdropping

When Harry returned to Grimmauld Place with Tonks, Kingsley, and Mr. Weasley in the early evening, he found Hermione and Ron waiting anxiously for him. He could tell that they were anxious; he had seen them in that frazzled, slightly jumpy way several times last year when he approached. It usually meant one of two things: one, that they had something important but unpleasant to say to him, or two, they thought he was going to blow up in their faces. This time it must have been the former, as he was certainly too tired and had no particular reason to be angry with them.

Dinner was a disquieting affair, as Hermione and Ron kept looking at him anxiously every so often. _If they keep this up_, Harry thought wearily, _it might be the latter one after all_. Tonks and Kingsley stayed for dinner and Lupin was also there. Ginny was absent, as she had gone to stay with Dean Thomas and his family for a week or so. Mr. Weasley sat next to his wife, once she finally settled into a seat.

After dinner, Harry, Ron and Hermione left the kitchen. Once just outside the kitchen door, the trio heard the adults start talking again. There hadn't been much conversation over dinner, so obviously the adults were waiting for them to leave.

"Well," said Ron, "what d'you reckon? Perhaps the ol' Extendable Ears?" He grinned, looking at Hermione and Harry hopefully.

Harry looked at Hermione, She, however, looked curious, though disapproving at the same time. _The only problem_, thought Harry, _is that you never hear anything good about yourself when you're eavesdropping_.

"Oh all right," she said curiosity winning over. She still had that disapproving look, though. "But I bet they put an Imperturbable Charm on the door."

"Why should they? It's not like Fred and George are around here anymore," pointed out Ron. "Besides, those sorts of spells wear off after a while."

"There's one easy way to find out," said Harry, digging a hand into his pocket. He drew out a knut that, he suddenly remembered, he had found on the ground. He threw it against the door. All three of them heard the audible ping that meant that the knut really _had_ hit the door, rather than sliding off like Ginny's Dungbombs.

"How much did you want to bet?" asked Harry, grinning.

"Oh quiet," said Hermione absently. "Ron, go get them then."

"Why me?" asked Ron plaintively, but didn't argue. He disappeared up the stairs.

Harry turned to Hermione. "So what is it?" When Hermione didn't answer, he said, "Come on. Something's been bothering you and Ron all evening. What is it?"

"Well, I wouldn't say _bothering_," said Hermione defensively. At Harry's silence, she seemed to hesitate and continued, "Harry, you do know that we get the _Evening Prophet_, right?"

"No," said Harry, suddenly feeling his stomach drop. The only time he had ever seen the _Evening Prophet_ was right after he and Ron flew the Ford Anglia into the Whomping Willow. Remembering those reporters, including Rita Skeeter, in the Atrium earlier, Harry was sure that it couldn't have anything good to say about him this time either.

Before their conversation could continue, however, Ron arrived back with the Ears. Harry and Hermione each took a pair and fitted one end into his/her ear. The three Ears wriggled like long inchworms under the door. Harry, Ron, and Hermione listened hard. Noises came from the kitchen, the sound of dishes washing themselves. After another minute though, there were footsteps, and someone sitting down.

"So, the Governmental Reform Committee, arrived today, didn't they?" came Mrs. Weasley's voice distinctly. "What were they like?"

There was a pause in the room, and then Tonks said mischievously, "American."

"We know they're American," came Lupin's tired voice.

"There were five of them," said Kingsley, sounding serious.

"Five?" Mrs. Weasley said, startled. "The newspapers all agreed that there were four in the committee."

"That's because they didn't know that Nicola Donnelly was also coming." That was Mr. Weasley.

"Nicola _Donnelly_? Isn't she the President's daughter?" asked Mrs. Wealsey, sounding incredulous.

"That's her all right," said Tonks. "And she already made a point of sidling up to Harry during lunch."

Ron and Hermione both looked askance at Harry, silently asking him to confirm this. He nodded, but motioned for them to keep quiet. He turned his attention back to the conversation in the other room.

"She acts sillier than she is," came Kingsley's recognizable low voice, still talking about Nicola.   

"Undoubtedly," said Lupin. He paused. "So that's why she came, just as an additional spy and set of ears and eyes?"

"She can be fairly charming," said Tonks, sounding disgusted, "which is why she goes along with her father to the social functions. She is, after all, seventeen."

"Jealousy, Nymphadora?" said Lupin, sounding amused.

"Not on your life, Remus. And it's Tonks," she added, a touch cross.

"Anyway," said Mr. Weasley, trying to get back to the point. "Dumbledore thinks it may be more than just spying. The Administration of Magic, President included, must have its own agenda as well. For the last couple of weeks, we've been hiding our state secrets, getting our stories straight, and covering things up—just in interest of survival. But Fudge knows it can't last. If they ask to see something, it'll have to come out, or the International Confederation will come swooping down on us." He sounded tired. "It's been mayhem, between the hiding things from stupid committee and You-Know-Who and ferreting out his spies. I wouldn't be surprised if the Ministry ends up with severe mental breakdowns and trips to St. Mungo's for all of its members."

"Didn't you know?" said Tonks, sounding surprised. "It's already started. Beverly Hertsens, from the Office of Misinformation, was carried out on a stretcher just this morning."

"And more are sure to follow," said Kinglsey.

"So the committee will pressure Fudge, and then he turns around and pressures the rest of the Ministry," Lupin mused.

"But the International Confederation can't force the Ministry to expose _everything_! We'd be completely vulnerable!" exclaimed Mrs. Weasley. 

"And wouldn't the Administration love that," said Tonks bitterly.

"Honestly, I was surprised when the tour came to my office," said Mr. Weasley. "I didn't think that they were even coming near my wing."

"They came to your office?" said Mrs. Weasley, surprised.

"While they were on the second floor," said Mr. Weasley, perhaps nodding, thought Harry.

"The Committee is bound to be in every nook and cranny of the Ministry before the end of this," Tonks pointed out.

"True, but I don't think Arthur's office was supposed to be seen on the first day," said Lupin.

"Not exactly the shining example of the Ministry?" said Mr. Weasley mildly, at which everyone gave a chuckle.

"Anyway, has Mundungus reported in recently?" asked Lupin. There was a pause, in which Harry could guess that the adults where shaking their heads. "No? Then what about Ab--" But suddenly Lupin stopped in mid-sentence.

Harry couldn't hear anything. The lack of the adults' breathing made him suspicious. Well, the fact that Lupin stopped in mid-sentence was also suspicious. Hermione motioned urgently to Ron and him for them to go upstairs. Harry gave her a look that plainly said that he wanted to listen more, but she returned it with an even more demanding look that said get-that-Extendable-Ear-out-of-your-ear-right-this-minute. With a sigh, Harry tugged the Ear out and watched the strings wriggle back. Ron did the same.

After they had hurried back upstairs at Hermione's insistence and shut the door firmly behind them, Harry asked, "What was that all about, Hermione?"

"Couldn't you tell?" she asked imperiously. "One or another of them noticed the bits of flesh string. Lupin, I suppose, saw them. You might mention to your brothers that Invisible Extendable Ears would be more inconspicuous."

Ron groaned. "Oh, great. Now I'll have to hear a telling off from Mum."

"Remind me not to be in the same room with you when that happens," said Harry, grinning.

"So, what do you think?" Hermione asked, pointedly looking at Harry, "About what we heard."

Harry looked thoughtful for a moment. "Well, that Donnelly was asking me a lot of questions, trying to get me to talk," he said, thinking back to brief conversation while waiting in line for lunch. 

"What was she asking about?" asked Hermione intently.

"Basically, about what happened last year at Hogwarts. With Umbridge and all." He paused. "She seemed very interested."

Ron seemed to be struggling with himself. "You know, it'd be so great to get Umbridge punished for everything she did, but the thought of telling _Americans_…"

"Harry, I wouldn't trust her, if I were you," said Hermione seriously. "Like Lupin said, she's probably a spy, being the President's daughter and all."

"If she is a spy, she's not a very good one," said Harry, thinking back to his first impression of her. "One minute she'd be giving a speech, and the next she'd try to launch a question."

"What did she talk about?" asked Hermione, sounding interested.

"Oh," said Harry, taken aback, "Er, I don't really remember. Something about the press and something else about wizarding Britain."

Hermione made an annoyed little noise, irritated that Harry couldn't remember more.

Trying to divert her attention, Harry asked, "So what about that article you told me about?"

Hermione remembered and let out a small "oh" of surprise. "Just a minute," she said, and without further ado, rushed out of the room. Harry could hear her footsteps moving farther upstairs.

"You know, I bet she was hoping to hear something back from the Committee," said Ron thoughtfully. "About spew."

"Yeah, I think so. The worst would be to put her and that Donnelly in the same room—we'd never hear the end of it," said Harry, grinning.

A couple moments later, Hermione came back looking a little breathless.

"Here," she said, tossing the paper into Harry's lap before taking a seat on one of the beds. Harry didn't have to look hard to find the article. It was front page. "_Governmental Reform Committee Arrives in London: Trouble for Ministry Has Started_" read the headline, with a shifty picture of the committee along with Fudge, Madam Bones, and another wizard. Harry recognized the double doors in the background—it must have been taken earlier that day in the Atrium.

At a look from Hermione, he read on:

_The future does not look bright for the Ministry of Magic, writes Rita Skeeter, _Special Correspondent_. The Governmental Reform Committee (GRC) arrived earlier today in London, and already there is evidence of foul play. Though sanctioned by the International Confederation of Wizards, this committee is made entirely of Americans. The long-standing hostilities between America and Britain were obviously not considered by the Confederation. Nevertheless, the Americans, the _Daily Prophet_ can exclusively reveal, have decided to take liberties of their own.  _

_Nicola Donnelly, the daughter of President Simion Donnelly, has apparently joined the GRC as its fifth member. Ministry officials were surprised earlier today to see her during the committee's preliminary orientation tour. A Ministry of Magic employee, who wishes to remain anonymous, stated, "This 'Governmental Reform Committee' is just a sham for the Administration to get our secrets. Sending Ms. Donnelly with them only proves this." _

_Besides being inappropriately inquisitive, Donnelly has already started to badger Ministry workers. Your Daily Prophet reporter witnessed Ms. Donnelly attempting to get Ministry information out of Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived. Potter had started internship work at the Ministry earlier this month. Potter, showing great loyalty to the Ministry, steadfastly refused to answer any of Ms. Donnelly's questions._

_When later questioned for the motives behind Ms. Donnelly's accompanying them, Head of Committee Kevin Jones declined to comment. His only statement was that "there was work to be done."_ 

_Surely an inquiry will be made into Ms. Donnelly's suspicious presence, as well as the future plans of the committee. We can only hope that the Confederation will take action to prevent further transgressions. _ 

Harry could feel his jaw dropping. "I don't believe this," he said slowly, "Rita Skeeter—pro-Ministry?"

"And you thought that it would rain Blast-Ended Skrewts before that happened," said Ron, sounding amused.

"Is it really that hard to believe?" Hermione sniffed. "Right now wizards on the street are feeling angry that Americans were sent to change the Ministry. The general opinion, and what people want to hear, is for bad stuff about the Committee."

"And Rita Skeeter obviously knows this," said Harry, getting it. He stood up abruptly and walked around, still clutching the newspaper.

"She even puts you in a good light, mate," said Ron, still grinning.

"That's public sentiment as well," Hermione pointed out.

"But how did she know about the conversation with Donnelly?" wondered Harry out loud. "The reporters were stopped by Security in the Atrium."

"She probably transformed," said Hermione with distaste. "I imagine it would difficult to spot a beetle in a busy dining hall."

Harry suddenly stopped and turned to face them. "Why were you two looking so worried earlier? The article wasn't like her articles a couple years ago."

Ron and Hermione exchanged a nervous glance before turning back to Harry. Ron shifted his weight on the foot on the bed uncomfortably. Then Hermione said firmly, "It was just—we just weren't sure how you would react, Harry. We didn't know that you had _really_ talked with Nicola Donnelly and that Rita wasn't just making it up."

Was that all it was? Just their being worried about another article? He had seen enough of them—most of which were much worse than this. By comparison, this article was quite complimentary. Harry felt that there was more to it than that, but didn't want to press them any farther. Maybe he was looking for things that weren't there.

Suddenly, they heard noises coming from downstairs. Sounds of people hurrying along the hall and someone shouting something indistinguishable. Harry quickly went to the door and opened it, peering out into the dark landing. He heard Ron and Hermione come to the door as well. The noises from below continued with more inquiring shouts and urgent, raised voices. Harry could hear the adults bustling back and forth.

"What on earth is going on?" said Hermione, who looked startled. Harry felt the same way—nothing like this had ever happened before. From the general tones of the voices, it sounded as though something big and bad had just happened.

"I don't know," said Harry. Without thinking, he moved to the landing, where he could get a better glimpse of the adults. Leaning over the banister, he could see Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Lupin, Tonks, and Kingsley bunched together, talking animatedly with another wizard.

"—I've only just now heard it from Emmeline, she's at the Ministry now—law enforcement patrol has been put on red alert." Harry had never heard Bill sound this flustered. "We knew something was going to happen today, only we guessed wrong. Dammit, we _knew_!"

"How many escaped?" asked Mr. Weasley urgently.

"All of the prisoners in Azkaban, or almost all of them," replied Bill bleakly. Harry heard a sharp intake of breath from behind him. "Emmeline told me she heard from Mundungus on the underground that You-Know-Who marched in and issued an ultimatum to the prisoners there—join him or stay there and rot because the Ministry will never let them out."

Harry heard Mrs. Weasley gasp. "Oh my goodness, then that must be nearly—"

"—two hundred new recruits," said Lupin grimly.

A shocked and dismayed silence filled the hallway. Harry felt as though the wind had been knocked out of him—he was too stunned to speak. From the gasps behind him, he knew that Ron and Hermione were thinking exactly what he was thinking—how can the Order and the Ministry fight off two hundred more supporters?

"What are the casualties so far?" asked Kingsley.

"All of the wizard guards and wardens at Azkaban were killed, they haven't found any survivors, as well as the task force the Ministry sent out after the alarms at Magical Law Enforcement went off," continued Bill. "They obviously didn't know what to expect."

Mr. Weasley swore under his breath. "How many are likely to stay with You-Know-Who?"

"We don't know," said Bill. "Certainly the Death Eaters captured last June. But as for the rest," he shrugged hopelessly, "well, they have no love for the Ministry. Dumbledore also gave me this message." Bill handed the group a piece of parchment. Harry saw heads bend over to read the parchment after Tonks conjured up light with her wand. After a minute, Tonks's light went out and a grim determination came over the adults. Talking in low voices, they started to disperse.

"Two hundred?" whispered Hermione in shock.

Harry stared down into the hallway, lost in thought, as the adults went in different directions. This, this was bad—worse than the Azkaban breakout back in January. A hundred times worse. If prisoners could escape that easily, now that the dementors had defected, how can the Ministry hope to winnow Voldemort's ranks? He didn't notice that Mrs. Weasley had come up the stairs until she was right next to him. All three of them jumped.

"Mum, is it true?" asked Ron, sounding as though he hoped he had heard it wrong. "About the prisoners?"

"Mrs. Weasley, what's going on?" asked Hermione, looking pale.

"You three need to go to bed," Mrs. Weasley said sternly, trying to shoo them off the landing. "But first—Hermione, dear, do you have your mirror on you?"

"Please, just tell us if it's true," said Hermione pleadingly. "Two hundred prisoners?"

Harry thought that Mrs. Weasley was going to brush off Hermione's question again. For a moment, Mrs. Weasley pursed her lips, looking critical about their eavesdropping. But the desperation and anguish on Hermione's face caused Mrs. Weasley's disapproval to soften and she merely looked tired.

"I'm afraid so," she said, as if wishing she didn't have to say it. "Azkaban has been emptied."

Hermione looked as though she might faint. Harry wondered if he looked the same way, pale, eyes wide and unseeing, face frozen in a look of horror. Hearing Mrs. Weasley confirm the news drove the sledgehammer home, right into his gut. Two hundred prisoners. The Death Eaters free again. Ministry wizards and witches already dead. Azkaban useless as a prison. A despairing silence fell upon them.

"Hermione, dear, your mirror?" asked Mrs. Weasley again. Wordlessly, Hermione drew a plain mirror, identical to the one that Lupin had repaired for Harry, out of the pocket of her jeans and handed it to Mrs. Weasley. Harry snapped out of his disjointed thoughts to consider why Hermione had her mirror with her. She carried it like a cell phone, always at hand. It reminded him of the inseparableness of Muggles and their cell phones.

"Thank you," murmured Mrs. Weasley. She looked into it and said, quite clearly, "Ron."

Harry barely had time to wonder why on earth she would be saying Ron's name when he was clearly standing two feet away. Suddenly, the mirror glowed a bright orange that quickly faded. Peering over her shoulder, Harry was quite surprised to see Ginny's freckled face come into view. She looked a little irritated, as though Mrs. Weasley had perhaps interrupted something. Harry could hear a voice in the background, though it took him a moment to recognize it as Dean's.

"Ginny, what is that?" Dean asked, sounding startled.

Ginny turned to look over her shoulder. "It's my mum again; just wait a minute." Turning back to the mirror, Ginny said, "Hi Mum. I didn't realize that you'd call twice in one day."

"Ginevra Weasley, I want you to come home this instant," said her mother firmly. The words hung between them, surprising and palpable. Harry was startled—didn't Ginny leave for the Thomas's only that afternoon?

Shock spread across Ginny's face, only to quickly turn into resentful annoyance. "Mum, I only just arrived today. You said yourself I could stay for at least a week."

"I know that, dear, but I want you to come home."

"It would be so impolite to Mr. and Mrs. Thomas—and they were so kind to me today," argued Ginny. She could see her mother waver, and pressed on, "Think how horribly rude it would be to leave right now! As if I didn't appreciate their kindness or hospitality."

"Well, you did stay for lunch and dinner, you can thank them for that—"

Ginny started to look angry. "I want to stay for the entire time like I said I would."

"Ginny, I know I said you could, but—"

Her cheeks were flushed from anger and intense frustration. "Mum," she practically shouted, "why are you acting like this?"

"Because the situation has changed and I don't want you to get hurt." Now Mrs. Weasley was looking faintly embarrassed, but determined. "Things have gotten more dangerous and want you to be where I know you're safe."

There was a sharp intake of breath from Ginny. Harry could see someone, Dean probably, moving in the background, shifting in his seat in order to hear the conversation more clearly. "Why?" demanded Ginny. "What happened?"

Mrs. Weasley seemed to be having an internal debate. "There has been a breakout from Azkaban…" she said slowly, and then began to explain the rest. Harry saw Ginny turn pale and gasp, and then slowly a look of realization crossed her face as her mother's words spilled over her.

"You think I'm in more danger here because Dean's Muggle-born." She sounded matter-of-fact, yet Harry could hear the bitterness in her voice.

"You know it's true," said her mother steadily.

"But how does the breakout change anything? There was always a risk," Ginny pointed out, "besides all of the precautions you had me take. Ron's mirror," she tapped the frame, "for instance, and a special emergency alert charm keyed to you, besides the safety measures Dean has taken and are around his house—"

"But the wards won't and can't stop an attack," said Mrs. Weasley, sounding desperate and sad. "Ginny, I don't know what I'd do if I lost you because of something I should have done. Please come home." There was something of a plea in her voice and the worried love of a mother. It made Harry's heart ache, but it also made him remember, with a sudden chill, Mrs. Weasley's boggart.

Ginny was silent a while. When she finally spoke, it was in a voice full of determination. "No."

"No?" Mrs. Weasley was taken aback.

Ginny took a deep breath. "No Mum, I'm not going to come back—not right now. We made plans and shouldn't have to change them because of You-Know-Who. We shouldn't have to live differently, to live in fear, because of him and his followers. I wanted to come and stay with Dean's family for enjoyment, for fun, because this is the summer and it's supposed to be fun. I want to have fun; I want to enjoy myself. Cowering in hiding, being too afraid to leave our homes and go about our daily activities and visit the people we care about—that's what he wants. If we hide, if we hang back from doing what we want to do, if we change the way we live, we give in to him. He wins. He wants us to be afraid. And I'm not going to give in and live in fear. And," her eyes blazed with a sudden fierceness Harry had never seen before, "I'm not going to let him win."

Harry looked up from the mirror, stunned, to look at Ron and Hermione. Ron was obviously surprised at his little sister's speech, but apparently impressed. Hermione looked grimly pleased and exceedingly proud of her. Mrs. Weasley, on the other hand, looked as though she had been slammed in the face with a broomstick and was on the verge of tears.

"Well," she said with a little catch in her voice, and Harry knew that Ginny had won this battle. "Okay. Okay then. Just, just be safe, and careful, always have your wand with you, and your charm, and don't hesitate to call if you need anything…" Her voice trailed away.

"Thanks Mum," said Ginny, suddenly looking a little remorseful. "And thanks for trusting me." And with that, she smiled, gave a wave, and vanished from the mirror.

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A/N: Well, that was fun. I hope you enjoyed reading, more to come! After all, what's the GRC going to think about this? =)

Some notes: The line about eavesdropping is from a David Eddings book.


	10. Uncertainties

Disclaimer: Don't own stuff, such as Harry Potter and various ideas/people/things/locations from other places as well. Pre-chapter quotes are duly cited and credit given to.

Hello all! Here's a new chapter, and I'm dreadfully sorry about the delay. The plot is finally starting to move a bit! (curse inertia!)

_Kaitee_: Plotting is good. Even if they don't get written, it's good to generate ideas. Agh, mention not a Harry/Nicola pairing! Nicola is intentionally a bit like Hermione. I'm glad you like the plot, I think that there's definitely too many Hogwarts-centered fics and that writers should definitely take advantage of the new places of Book 5! Thanks for putting me on your fav list, I'm quite honored.

_kingmaker_: Oh, I'm definitely not bored with writing and reading fancfiction! I'm just busy like the rest of the world. Nicola as the President's daughter was planned from the start, though her role evolved as I developed a subplot. As for Ginny and Mrs. Weasley, would I do that? )

_Just one in a million_: Thanks so much for reading my story! I glad you think it's well written; I've worked hard to keep it interesting and true to the books.

_Voltora_: Welcome! Thanks for writing so many reviews. I'm glad you've enjoyed reading it. I'd love to see Bellatrix dying horribly, or suffering a lot, as I am an ardent Sirius fan and hold torturers in contempt. I try not to abandon good fics that I've started, esp. when I have an ending in mind. I'm glad you agree with me on the Harry and Nicola count—it's just way too common. It's good that you think Nicola is a "refreshing" OC—I've been trying hard to banish any Mary Sue-ness from her character. My fics often have commentary on what I notice in the books—such as the case of Mrs. Weasley's boggart and Ginny. I agree also on the case of O.W.L.s—all O's is highly unrealistic for anybody but Hermione. ) Again, thank you for reading and reviewing!

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Chapter 10: Uncertainties

_You can be a hero if you want to be,  
__Everyone's a prisoner holding their own key.  
_-Diane Duane, _High Wizardry_

And with that, she smiled, gave a wave, and vanished from the mirror.

The atmosphere was pretty deflated after Ginny waved goodbye. Harry saw Mrs. Weasley surreptitiously wipe a tear from her eye before saying, "Well, you three should go to bed. At least some in this house should get a good night's rest. Here, Hermione, thank you for letting me borrow it," she added, handing back the mirror to Hermione.

"Anytime, Mrs. Weasley," said Hermione, with a tentative smile.

"Good night, and go to bed," Mrs. Weasley repeated, though without much conviction, before hurrying down the stair and disappearing through the door that lead to the basement kitchen.

"Blimey, Ginny really packed a punch there, didn't she?" remarked Ron, still impressed. "It's been a while since I've seen Mum completely speechless like that."

"But your mum did have a point," said Harry thoughtfully, leaning against the banister of the dim landing. "I mean, she's in more danger with Dean than here."

"But it's also like what Ginny said—living in fear is exactly what Voldemort wants," pointed out Hermione.

"Besides all of us dead, you mean," said Ron nervously, staring down at the dark hallway, not meeting Harry or Hermione's faces. He said it in such a serious tone of voice that Harry was surprised—he really didn't expect it out of Ron. Ron, who was usually fairly oblivious to whatever events were going on. Ron, who usually tried to put forward the most optimistic interpretation. But maybe it was because his little sister could quite possibly be hurt or even killed that he was suddenly so serious.

"Well, that, too, but it's like Ginny said, the situation hasn't changed; Death Eaters could come and attack before the breakout as well," said Hermione matter-of-factly.

Harry thought back to what Ginny had said, about the defensive measures they had taken. "What was she talking about, "the safety measures Dean has taken"? He knows that he's a target—hell, Hermione, you know you're a target, and your parents," said Harry suddenly. "What's going to stop Death Eaters from knocking down your front door?"

Hermione sighed, though not too exasperatedly. "You weren't at the Leaving Feast last term, Harry, were you?"

"No," said Harry, more aggressively than he intended. "So?"

"So you didn't hear what Dumbledore had to say," replied Hermione, used to Harry's outbreaks of defensiveness. "He had disks for every student that are charmed to contact the Magical Law Enforcement squad immediately in the case of an emergency. It has a Location Charm attached, so when activated, the law enforcement wizards know where to find you. It's sort of like a magical 911, only without the questions. The Heads of House also passed out pamphlets on some simple wards and detection spells, you know to detect intruders and such. Even underage wizards are allowed to use those spells, as long as the supervising Ministry approves them; it's the provision under section 16C for basic warning spells that are passive in nature and undetectable by Muggles. I know that they won't stop a Death Eater from entering a house—but maybe it will buy some time." She smiled tentatively, but the look on the rest of her face, saying that she knew how futile they would be in a real confrontation, showed her own doubts.

"I still can't believe that all those prisoners broke out that easily," said Ron, shaking his head. "So much for a prison."

"Malfoy said they would," said Harry, suddenly remembering Malfoy's words at the end of last term. Ron and Hermione both looked at him. "Now that the dementors aren't there, he said that his father and the rest would be able to break out easy." Harry made a face. "I guess it's not that surprising."

"Yeah, but who would've thought that the rest of the prisoners would be released, too! Some are bound to join You-Know-Who," said Ron, sounding worried.

"And the rest are probably high-tailing it out of the country," added Hermione.

"What is the Ministry going to do when it can't even lock up Voldemort's supporters? What's the Order going to do? They can't keep them locked up—not when they can be freed just like that," Harry pointed out, frustrated.

"Maybe…" said Hermione slowly, looking over their heads. "Maybe they'll create another prison—a secret one, one that nobody knows its location."

Ron and Harry exchanged a glance. "Uh, Hermione," said Ron, "someone's going to know where it is and then it's not much of a secret."

"It could be Fidelius Charmed, an immense one," Hermione pointed out, "Unplottable, of course, and Anti-Apparition wards. They can't simply repair Azkaban—everyone knows where it is already—"

"Errm, they do?" said Harry, confused.

"—so they could build a prison in another location. Underground, in the air, who knows. But if they don't do that…then it might be like last time. Worse than last time," added Hermione, a grim expression on her face.

"What might be worse than last time?" asked Ron.

Hermione looked at him. "Remember what Sirius said? About the last time Voldemort was powerful? Wizards were handed over to the dementors without trials, the use of Unforgivable Curses was legalized for Aurors. If they can't lock up his supporters, they'll have to kill them," said Hermione bleakly.

"Would it really come to that?" said Ron, shocked at Hermione's suggestion.

"Yes," Harry found himself saying, "yes, it probably will." Ron and Hermione started. He was rarely this serious and bleak. "The dementors have already left, something that didn't happen last time, or not entirely," Harry continued tonelessly, "and the Ministry already has a late start. They're desperate to keep order. And now…"

"Now the Governmental Reform Committee's here," said Hermione suddenly, tying it together. She stared over Ron and Harry's heads at the blank walls, as though seeing something they could not. "They'll be putting pressure on the Ministry and, most likely, mucking up procedures. A new bureaucracy will be the downfall in an emergency situation."

"Umm, English, Hermione," said Ron, confused.

Hermione looked at him exasperatedly. "The Committee's going to try to change the way the things are run. They'll probably try to put more checks on power in the decision making, which means that it will take longer for anything to get done. That won't work when there's an immediate crisis—every minute is crucial." She started to pace along the landing, accidentally causing loud creaks in the floorboards. She quickly stopped. "Of course they had to attack this day, what with the committee and all. It looks even worse for the Ministry and everything will be in disarray tomorrow. I suppose the question is how Voldemort—"

"Would you quit saying the name!" Ron hissed. He looked very pale, with his freckles showing more clearly against his white face.

"—will use the Committee's presence to his advantage and when he'll attack next," finished Hermione, sounding weary. "And I suppose he'll attack any day now. Suddenly. Randomly. Who knows when the real attacks will start and when they will end?"

Harry was silent. He knew the only way they could truly end.

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Later that interminable night, Harry lay in bed, staring up at the shadowy ceiling, while Ron slept soundly. Every time he almost dozed off, the faceless dead Ministry witches and wizards would rise up, crowding around him, silently blaming him with wide, empty eyes. They were the first major group of casualties in the Second War. They demanded from him justice for their violent deaths.

Flinching away from those sightless images, he couldn't help feeling some of the old black guilt creep into his insides. This guilt came from knowing that he, and he alone could completely stop Voldemort. Anyone else would die futile deaths, like the ineffectual struggle of the Ministry witches and wizards. He alone at least had a chance.

Though, how _does_ one go about defeating the evilest, most powerful Dark wizard of the century? When he was a baby, it was nothing of his own doing. It was his mother's sacrifice and Voldemort's mistake. But now…now what the hell was he supposed to do? Voldemort would come after him again; he was fairly sure of that. He would want to get rid of him before he finished school. But each time they had come face to face, Harry had barely escaped with his life. He was nowhere near as powerful or experienced a wizard as him.

But what was it the prophecy had said? "Power the Dark Lord knows not?" What was that supposed to mean? And Dumbledore, talking about a door in the Department of Mysteries that held this power or force. Harry hadn't really given it much thought before—he was too preoccupied with the loss of Sirius at the time. All of these half-clues, these tantalizing hints, these random pieces in a puzzle were giving him a headache. It didn't make any sense—even if he really did have one advantage over Voldemort, he had no idea how to use it. In fact, he still didn't know if he really had it.

Feeling frustrated and discouraged, Harry finally managed to fall asleep, albeit uneasy. But it was another night's sleep filled with dreams.

He was back in the room with the archway and the veil, felt the stone steps under his feet and saw the rippling cloth. The room was empty, except for himself. He wanted to go up and touch the veil, to brush it aside, fearing and hoping what was behind it. He walked toward the archway, footsteps echoing around the empty stone chamber, but the dais kept moving farther and farther away. But there was this whispering, this whispering that came from everywhere, not just from behind the veil, but echoing off the stone walls and seats. He ran faster, trying to catch up with the dais or just to get away from the whispering, he didn't know. Then the dream shifted abruptly—he was standing quite still in front of a plain black door, much like all the doors of the Department of Mysteries. He didn't want to go through that door, but felt that he had to; he didn't want to see what was beyond it, but felt that he must. He reached out a hand to push the door open…

At this point, Harry woke up. He rolled over, trying to get back to sleep, annoyed with this dream. Harry didn't like keeping secrets from his friends; he was so used to confiding in them about everything, but it was becoming increasingly necessary to keep things to himself. He couldn't imagine telling them about the prophecy, not yet anyway. He hadn't yet come to terms with it himself. Secondly, he didn't tell them and wasn't about to tell them about this dream he kept having. Ron would be doubtful, maybe alarmed, and Hermione would fret and scoff. Like his scar hurting, his dreams had lost significance and importance.

But Harry couldn't help thinking that it was odd that his scar wasn't prickling at all—not with these dreams and not over the last month. So it couldn't be _his_ sending of these dreams, right? Was Voldemort intentionally blocking him out, or was it that "force" that Dumbledore had mentioned that was blocking _Voldemort_out? Harry didn't know and wasn't about to ask. But this dream didn't feel natural, either. It was as though someone or something was using his head to play scenes to the captive audience of himself. Feeling confused and frustrated, he flopped over again, trying to get comfortable enough to fall asleep.

The veil, though, and the whispering. They continued to bother him like an itch he couldn't quite reach. At the end of last term, Luna had said that she heard voices coming from behind the veil as well. Was she right? That they were really there, just out of sight? It was impossible to believe her about some things, such as Blibbering Humdingers, but Harry didn't know what to think about this. Could he believe her? Did she know something more?

Asking Ron and Hermione for their views on the veil would be pointless. Both would think that he was losing it. He remembered how Hermione had panicked and how confused Ron had been. Both were scared of the veil and not about to discuss or find out more about it. No, neither would really be helpful.

Harry felt as though he was missing something important and it kept nagging at him. It was as though he kept trying to put together a puzzle, but without half of the pieces and he didn't know where to look for them. And what was that door in his dream? It looked like one of the many black doors of the Department of Mysteries, but it didn't feel like the same one from his dreams all last term. After all, his scar wasn't hurting.

He was worn out with wondering and was still without answers. Feeling drained and exhausted, Harry turned over another time and fell asleep again.

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As it turned out, his subconscious was a better problem solver than his waking mind. The minute Harry woke up the next morning, which was much earlier than Ron, he sent a letter to Luna.

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A/N: And thus is another chapter. I hope you enjoyed it! (the next chapter, as I've planned it, will be quite a bit longer)


	11. Intimations

I can only give my own condolences after the tragic events in London last week. Hearts and thoughts go out to those killed and injured by the terrible attacks and I wish all best of luck and courage in the days ahead.

_kingmaker_: Well, I'm using Hermione the same way JKR does—to give information to the reader and make the reader think about what they're supposed to think about. ) And kingfisher, you are very, very astute! And smart. That's exactly what I was going for! (I devotedly very much like the Matrix) And the rest of quote, "like a splinter in the mind, driving you mad." I'll let the double major in history and English extrapolate that further.

_Voltora_: Luna is awesome. I'm going to have a hard time making her as spacey and kooky as she deserves. You should be worried about Voldemort, very worried. I'm excited and dreading what will happen in Book 6, too.

_Xerios_: Yes, it 'tis been quite a while and I'm glad to see you're still around. Luna is a strange one—let's see if I make her vacant enough.

_Hermione 'DB' Granger_: Welcome and thatnks for stumbling upon this poor fic of mine. I try very hard to make things canon, but as I am not British nor can I figure out British sayings (sorry!), I try for humor and sound if not accuracy. As for Harry's suffering…I get the impression that he's done enough, or he thinks he has, but is in that state where everything reminds him of Sirius so he slips back from time to time. Plus, there's his friends and adults treating him like glass, suggesting that he hasn't recuperated yet, so there's the power of suggestion, too. (if everyone tells you that you're crazy, after a while, you begin to wonder if you actually are). Thank you again for all of your comments, they're really quite insightful. I hope you, your family, and your friends are safe and well.

To everyone: Thanks so much for reading. I think you are all so great for reading and, whaddya know, replying! As usual, I apologize for the delay in updates. I know Book 6 will come out before I finish this fic, but I hope you will bear with me and not abandon it when this story is inevitably banished to AU. I really do have the rest of the story planned out, but it's not nearly as much fun to read in outline form.

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Chapter 11: Intimations

_Don't__ it always seem to go  
That you don't know what you got 'til it's gone  
They paved paradise, and put up a parking lot_

-"Big Yellow Taxi" Counting Crows

Dumbledore was starting to get a headache. It was mid-morning, a slow time of day. Late summer sunlight came through the windows of Dumbledore's office to create patterns on the bookcases and floor. Fawkes was resting, but not sleeping, on his usual perch by the door. Dumbledore was pleased to see how well he had recovered from his previous death. Phoenixes did not take very long to reach adulthood, so Dumbledore judged that it might be another month until Fawkes was fully grown again.

It had been several days since the committee had arrived in London (and the nocturnal breakout from Azkaban) and already an influx of owls had been, at infrequent intervals, dropping letters on his desk. Which, perhaps, wasn't all that unusual, as he was the headmaster. He already had an automatic sorter on his desk that put the letters in particular categories. Complaints was a fairly popular one. Other sections included questions (full-to-overflowing), junk mail (a truly ridiculous amount), reminders, updates, administrative-related, pleas for help, and dire pleas for help. However, they were still fairly tedious to go through. Magic couldn't do everything, after all.

Many of the owls were from Madam Bones, (landing mostly in updates), frequently informing him about the committee's actions. Even back during the dark times of the Ministry the previous year, she had still maintained loyalty to Dumbledore. Her pragmatic judgements and exemplary leadership as Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement earned her respect throughout the magical community. Fudge could not dismiss her without invoking the wrath of thousands of witches and wizards and undermining public confidence in his authority. Madam Bones also avoided Fudge's ire and a possible confrontation by being circumspect in her support for Dumbledore. Bones's most recent letter to Dumbledore about the committee was perhaps the most indignant and blunt one he had ever seen.

_"Dumbledore,"_ it had read, "_it's started. They've already ordered a new department level to be built and sanctioned the creation of a legislative branch! A rather convoluted one, I might add. The Americans are insisting on two 'houses' to be created. And voting! Voting for the members of the houses! Our Department has lists of registered witches and wizards, but imagine trying to track them down and getting them to vote!"_ Dumbledore chuckled to himself. Amelia Bones's outrage was quite apparent. The letter continued: _"I have no idea what they might want with one house, never mind two. They are also attempting to put in something like the Bill of Rights, which is absolutely ridiculous, since we do, of course, have the Wizengamot Charter of Rights. This dratted committee is also putting in something they call 'the Miranda rights,' which, apparently, has something to do with my department especially. _

_"I'm afraid that I have lost my position in the Wizengamot, as you might have already heard. Fudge, of course, did as well. As did everyone who had another prominent position in the government. Tiberius was kept on, as were you, of course, but Griselda was dismissed as she is also part of the Wizarding Examinations Authority_…"

Dumbledore shook his head to himself. One thing that the Americans failed to understand was that there simply weren't enough willing wizards to have one wizard to each job. That of course, was why there was such doubling or tripling up of jobs in the Ministry. Even if Britain had the highest concentration of wizards, America still had more actual wizards interested in civil service, due to the sheer size of the country. The pockets of population density were far more numerous than that of Britain. Then Dumbledore idly wondered if the population density of humans was directly related to the number of wizards that turned up, ie. Muggle-borns. _The higher the density, the more Muggle-borns?_ Dumbledore mused. _Something about a lot of humans together that causes this wild gene to crop up? If, after all, magic is a gene, though it certainly is inheritable. _Dumbledore could have followed that thought out, perhaps reaching to a Darwinian conclusion, but he thought that might not be the entire story.

A sharp double-rap on the office door brought Dumbledore out of his musings. "Come in, Severus," said Dumbledore pleasantly.

The door opened. The dark-haired, sallow-skinned Potions Master entered and closed the door behind him. He took several steps forward. "You wished to see me, Headmaster?" he asked in his usual curt voice.

"Yes, please sit down." Dumbledore gestured at the chair in front of him. Snape took a seat.

"This was printed yesterday," said Dumbledore, getting right to the point. He indicated the newspaper on the desk. Snape looked closer at it and realized that it was written in French. Obviously, however, it was also a wizarding paper as the picture of the Dark Mark floating above a burning house flickered eerily.

Dumbledore did not seem to expect a reply, and continued, "Attacks have been occurring in France for the past three weeks, yet the Daily Prophet has yet to report it. I'm afraid that Monsieur Garnier and, of course, Monsieur Jacques will throw an absolute fit at the next Confederation meeting. Poppy will have to administer a headache cure for me. However, what would you say is Voldemort's business in France of all places?"

Snape gave the barest of flickers at the sound of the name. "It must be a diversion. France is both unimportant and inconsequential. Our Ministry is not on friendly terms with the French Ministry, so it couldn't be an attack to weaken allies."

"I would say that our Ministry is on pleasant terms with no one at the moment," said Dumbledore, the corner of his mouth twitching.

"True enough." Snape flicked his eyes back to the newspaper. "Of course, it could just be for amusement. France is woefully vulnerable and slow to respond to such crisises."

"Recruitments," Dumbledore muttered, looking at the photograph in the paper, "and a bit of persuasion." The Headmaster looked up. "The Lestranges are French."

Snape nodded. "The Lestrange family was originally from France, but Rodolphus and Rabastan's great-grandfather decided to bring his side of the family to Britain."

"So Voldemort's bringing in foreign wizards this time. More than last time, especially since the giants are almost all gone. He'll need others to fill his ranks," Dumbledore mused, looking up at his globe of the world. "How far a field will he go?"

Snape couldn't give him an answer.

Dumbledore picked up a second newspaper. This one was not in French or some other foreign language, but in English. The _Iris Enquirer_, it was titled.

Snape raised an eyebrow. "American newspapers, too? How about Dutch and Hungarian? Malay? Chinese as well?"

"Nonsense, it'd take me all day to read a Chinese one without a proper translator," said Dumbledore, amused at his display of humor. "And the Chinese do not bother to sell proper ones. The last time I tried one of their translator charms on an article, the headline read 'Mass Murtlap Infestation Reanimates Corpse of Lao Tze.' I think they find it amusing."

"I would be surprised if there was anything left of him to reanimate," said Snape dryly, "considering that he has been dead for over two and a half thousand years."

"You surprise me, Severus," said Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling with amusement. To say that Snape didn't have a sense of humor was a falsehood, indeed. "I didn't know you looked into Eastern philosophy."

"If you call the mad ravings of a wizard a philosophy," Snape said scornfully.

"Some do," said Dumbledore gravely. Snape looked up quickly, surprised. Their eyes locked together for a moment.

"Back to what I was referring to," Dumbledore said, business-like, brandishing the copy of the _Iris Enquirer_. He folded the first couple pages back. "A small article in one of the middle pages is quite suspicious. I'm sure that Simion Donnelly didn't want it included."

Snape raised his eyebrows at the mention of the President's name. He took the paper from Dumbledore and scanned said article quickly. When he was finished, he raised his eyes slowly to Dumbledore.

"Suspicious?" said Dumbledore. It wasn't really a question.

"Very. I'll need to think about this." Snape held on to the newspaper, weighing what the article said, and what it might indicate.

He made a move to get up, but then Dumbledore said, "One more minute of your time, please." Snape settled back down into his chair.

"Minerva's started to send out the school letters," said Dumbledore, looking intently at Snape. The Potions Master didn't stir. "She's been going over the sixth and seventh years' especially." Still no particular reaction from Snape. "As you know, their N.E.W.T. classes are listed, in order for them to buy the proper books."

"Please get to your point, Headmaster," said Snape curtly.

"Minerva sent me a note saying that Harry Potter was not on your N.E.W.T. Potions class list." Dumbledore looked over his half-moon spectacle glasses at Snape.

"Potter did not achieve an 'O' on his O.W.L.," said Snape stiffly, looking visibly affronted.

"If I remember correctly, he did indeed," said Dumbledore, still fixing Snape with that piecing gaze.

"Potter did not get an 'O' on his practical," amended Snape grudgingly.

"He got an 'E'," Dumbledore pointed out.

"Which is not an 'O'," Snape countered, though he already knew that he was going to lose this battle.

"But is fairly close, considering his 'O' on his written."

"But still fails to be an 'O.' I refuse to let lower standard 'E's' into my class like Minerva."

"Severus, you know that you'll grudgingly agree to put Harry Potter in your class by the end of this conversation," said Dumbledore, almost wearily.

Snape glared. "Fine. Fine then. Precious Potter will be in my N.E.W.T. Potions class. But if ends up being to lazy to keep up his grades by the end of first term, he will be forcibly kicked out."

"Fair enough, though I should not need to remind you that a pass _is_ a pass," said Dumbledore, looking very serious. He made a mental note to send a note to Minerva.

"Indeed, you do not," said Snape in a clipped voice. "If there was anything else, Headmaster?"

"Ah, no, that was all, Severus, thank you." Dumbledore watched with amusement as the Potions Master got up looking miffed and left the office.

"Oh no, now what?" said Mr. Weasley exasperatedly, looking at the general notice board. Harry craned his neck to see what Mr. Weasley had noticed, but it was difficult, owing to the crowd of glum-looking witches and wizards gathered around the board.

"What is it, Arthur?" asked Tonks, who was looking the other way.

"It must be another _announcement_," said Mr. Weasley grimly.

Tonks groaned. By the emphasis Mr. Weasley had placed on the word _announcement_, Harry had to agree with Tonks. It had to be another Governmental Reform Committee mandate.

It had now been little over a week since the committee had arrived. Since day two of the Committee's presence, notices had been put up in the Atrium and on the bulletin boards of every Department and Office. They were lists of new regulations, mandatory assemblies and seminars, and various new procedures. Luckily, Harry only had to deal with a couple of them, such as having the files redesigned to have not only the suspect's name, but number, class of accused crime, and current status. He also had to make sure each file also had a copy in the larger Department of Magical Law Enforcement's file room. A nuisance, yes, but not nearly as annoying as he was sure some of the other new rules must be to other people. For example, a new procedure for passing laws involved a series of votes through a bunch of committees and departments. Harry was sure that Fudge wouldn't like that.

"Tonks, can you read what it says?" asked Mr. Weasley.

"Gladly," she said, grinning. Concentrating and looking pained, Tonks suddenly grew a foot taller, becoming quite thin and lanky. She peered over the crowd and read the now-visible notice aloud:

"**By order of the Governmental Reform Committee,**

_"All ranking members of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical creatures must attend a mandatory meeting today, the Sixteenth of August, on the subject of goblins, werewolves, vampires, and centaurs. Please come prepared to discuss and with an open mind to reform. _(Harry grinned, every "mandatory meeting" always had this last line attached to the announcement)

_"All floors must have assigned floor wardens to oversee an evacuation in the case of an emergency. Emergency exits for every floor must be installed no later than the Twenty-Third of August._

_"All privies must have handicapped accessibility no later than the Twenty-First of August._

_"Erumpents are not permitted to walk on public streets unless they are on a leash. This rule must be observed and enforced by the Nineteenth of August._

_"No smoking is to be allowed in any part of the Ministry of Magic, including privies, hallways, private offices, and lifts._ (Harry laughed at this one; an earlier notice had proclaimed no smoking in public areas of the Ministry of Magic, so wizards smoked in all of the not-so-public areas)

_"_Signed,

_Kevin Jones_

**International Confederation of Wizards**

"Well," said Mr. Weasley, breathing a sigh of relief, "at least it isn't nearly as long as yesterday's. And most of it has to do with Magical Maintenance, not us."

"Unless you regularly walk Erumpents down streets, that is," said Tonks mischievously, returning to her normal size.

Mr. Weasley and Harry laughed. They had gotten used to some of the strange new rules in the announcements, but Harry still couldn't help but wonder the point of it all. When the three of them started to move toward the lifts with the rest of the divided crowd, Harry asked, "But what's the point of all that? Do there really need to be laws about Erumpents and bathrooms?"

"Well, not exactly," said Mr. Weasley, as they waited in line for one of the lifts. "The point the Committee's making is that there needs to be specific laws for everything. Government regulation for everything."

"At least, _they_ think there needs to be," added Tonks.

A lift to the right opened and they managed to squeeze inside. Harry shifted his book bag to his other shoulder to make room. Mr. Weasley continued in undertone, "They're just trying to rub it in our faces that they have laws we don't have and 'should' have, so that must be the reason why things went the way they did last year and several nights ago."

Harry frowned. What was the connection between freed prisoners and Erumpent walking? Why should the Committee and the Ministry care about domesticating rare magical creatures when there was a crisis? He couldn't make any sense of it.

He didn't have much more time to think more about it during the morning, as work required all of his attention today. Since the breakout, the Auror Headquarters and the rest of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement were plunged in a frenzy of work. Everyone knew the cost of failure, which added a certain grimness and desperation to the air. Harry was actually surprised that he was allowed to keep coming to his internship—he would think the prison breakouts would trigger another bout of protectiveness from the Order. It could be that the Auror Headquarters needed all the help they could get in making sure information got to where it needed to be and could not afford to simply send Harry back home. After all, Arthur Weasley even had his hands full, as the breakout spawned an outbreak of general lawlessness—including tampering with Muggle Artifacts.

Harry was pressed into service as a general file carrier, taking files from file rooms or offices throughout the department to the people who requested them. Sometimes he made copies of reports by using something akin to a magical photocopier. He'd stick the file to a device that resembled a revolving toaster oven and say the number of copies aloud. Sometimes that got him into trouble, such as the day before when he thought he said "seven_teen_" but the copier "heard" "seven_ty_." Harry still grew red with embarrassment when he remembered that disaster, what with the copier-toaster spewing copies all over the floor.

Though the state of alert meant that he traveled around the Department more, instead of being cooped up in the Auror's file room, Harry didn't hear or read as many reports coming in as he thought he would. Harry didn't know if this was due to the confidentiality of the reports or something more worrisome—that there wasn't anything new to report. No new information about the Death Eaters at large, no new leads to track them down. But it also meant that there hadn't been any new attacks yet, news which everyone feared.

It was in the midmorning, when everyone had finally shaken off the early morning stupor and things finally got going, when Harry got a surprise. He was taking a box of old, outdated files back to the file room when he found that somebody was already inside. He nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw the unexpected intruder sitting in the sole off-balance chair of the room.

"Hello Harry, I can call you Harry, right?" said Ms. Nicola Donnelly, in what seemed to Harry, an irritatingly smug and self-assured manner. She was wearing the standard navy blue robes that all of the Committee wore and her hair pulled back in a simple braid. She appeared to have been waiting for him.

"Err," said Harry, trying to hide his confusion at seeing her here. It felt like a breach of privacy; for in the past couple weeks, he had come to consider the file room as _his_. After all, he had spent so much time in it. He dropped the heavy files down on the already messy table, making a louder _thud_ than he had intended. When she didn't say anything for an awkward minute and just sat there while Harry was forced to stand, he finally said, "Do you need something?"

"Why yes," she said, smiling so that her dimples showed, "I'd like to ask you a few questions."

Harry immediately became wary. Nicola must have noticed that, for she hesitated before asking, "What's Hogwarts like?"

That caught Harry off-guard. "Well, it's a school," he said rather lamely.

"Yes, I know. But what's it like?" she asked earnestly, almost wistfully.

_What's Hogwarts like?_ Harry was baffled. What was he supposed to say? He never had to describe it to anyone else before. Hogwarts was once a place he could think back to with joy, but now there was bitterness mixed into his memories from the events of last year. The poison of Umbridge was not so easily washed out of his memories of the school.

"It's big and complex with drafty corridors and confusing passageways. Getting from class to class is often like getting through a maze." He paused, noticing the expression on his visitor's face. He saw that his answer wasn't quite what Nicola had meant by her question. Fishing around for words, he continued, "There's a lot of homework, of course, but there's also time for clubs, walking around the grounds, and Quidditch, and visits to the village. And you never know when the school might surprise you."

"The school?" Nicola asked, sounding confused. "You make it sound as though the school was a living thing."

"Well, I mean parts of the school, like the paintings." Seizing this idea, he told her of Sir Cadogan, the crazy knight on the way to the North Tower.

Nicola laughed, her cheeks flushing with delight. "He didn't really talk like that, did he?"

"Yes, he did, and frequently," replied Harry, in a way glad that he had made her laugh.

But suddenly Nicola sighed, toying with the edge of her cloak. "I wish I could have gone to a school like Hogwarts."

Harry was surprised at the abrupt switch and heard the plaintive regret in her reply. "Where did you go?"

"Well, I didn't go to a school, per se," said Nicola. Seeing Harry's blank expression, she added, "I was privately tutored for most of my life. Sometimes I wonder what it would have been like to go to a school, like the ones in D.C. or New York or even Michigan."

"You didn't go to school?" Harry asked, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. He had never heard of that before.

"My father had certain ideas about that sort of thing," said Nicola. Harry took that to mean that her father didn't want her to go to a normal wizarding school. He suddenly remembered who her father was, the President of the American Administration of Magic. What kind of upbringing did she have, with a father that politically ambitious? Harry wondered if her father was like Fudge or Mr. Crouch.

"Oh," said Harry, shifting his weight, not sure of what else to say.

"Well anyways," said Nicola, straightening up in her crooked seat and suddenly assuming a dignified, business-like manner, "I was instructed to oversee the filing methods of the Ministry. As you are the main filing clerk in this sector of the Department, I have couple of suggestions for the efficient and accurate filing of these important records." She gestured vaguely at the filing cabinets behind her.

Harry gritted his teeth. "We used some of these 'suggestions' last week," he said, trying not to sound too irritated. He disliked Nicola's sudden reversion to pomposity.

"We have reassessed the situation," she said, smiling complacently. "For one, the files in there are quite disorganized." She pointed to the lower left corner of the room. Harry looked and started when he saw a small, nondescript filing cabinet wedged between two larger ones. He couldn't remember seeing it there before.

"I've never seen it before," blurted Harry, before he could help himself. He walked over to the cabinet that seemed to have miraculously appeared and examined it closely. It was made of wood, with a series of locks along the front, reminding him of Moody's trunk. Now he was sure that he had never seen the cabinet in this room before.

"It's locked," Harry said, after trying to pull the drawer open. "How do you know that there are files in there?"

"Simple, I looked," she said, not bothering to get up. She reached into the pocket of her robes and withdrew a small golden key ring, with several gold and silver keys attached. She held it up for Harry to see, creating curiously musical clinks, and said, "These open any lock in the Ministry, and that means _any_ lock."

Harry stared. She, and the rest of the committee, had full reign to delve into anything? To Harry, it didn't seem right. No way would the Ministry ever willingly hand over keys to everything to the Committee. Unless they were forced to by the International Confederation, that is. Maybe that's why the Ministry was trying to hide things in hidden filing cabinets. After all, the Committee couldn't unlock a room that they didn't know was there. But wait; could those keys open doors without keyholes?

The image of the locked door from his dream rose in his mind. Harry asked curiously, "Even locked doors without keyholes?"

Nicola looked startled. "Why would there be a locked door without a keyhole?" she asked, looking puzzled. "I mean, how would you open it?"

Harry shrugged. "I dunno. That's why I asked."

"Have you seen such a door?" asked Nicola.

Harry then realized he got himself into trouble. He hesitated for a fraction of a second before saying, "No. No I haven't."

She stared at him intensely for long moment, but decided not to press the issue. Which was just as well, since Harry had no idea what he would have said next.

A blue glow from under the single desk caught his eye. The light was coming from his book bag, which he had hastily stuffed under there along with his lunch. It must be the mirror, which meant that someone was trying to talk to him, but he didn't really want to have Nicola here as well. Seeing no way to quickly get her out, he resignedly cleared his throat. "I need to get to my bag," he said, feeling rather lame. He walked over to the desk and Nicola, startled, jumped out of her precarious seat. Ducking down, he rummaged through his bag and pulled out the still glowing mirror. He heard Nicola give a gasp of surprise.

"Hi, Hermione, I'm kinda busy—" Harry said hurriedly, but then faltered when he saw the ecstatic look on her face. It looked so out of place, so different from the worried looks so typical of the last few days.

"Oh Harry, you wouldn't believe what we found!" Hermione began excitedly, but Harry interrupted her.

"Hermione, can't this wait? I—"

"What's that, Harry?" asked Nicola curiously, coming up next to him and peering at the mirror. Hermione froze at the sound of the unfamiliar voice.

Harry sighed, giving up trying to get through this smoothly. "Hermione, this is Nicola Donnelly of the Governmental Reform Committee. Nicola, this is one of my best friends, Hermione Granger."

"Nicola? Nicola Donnelly?" said Hermione, sounding amazed. She recovered quickly, and Harry saw an idea flash across her face. "Harry, hand over the mirror so I can talk with her." She sounded a little too eager for Harry's liking, but he handed the mirror to Nicola anyway.

"How does this work?" asked Nicola, dubiously looking at the mirror in her hand.

"Just speak into it and Hermione hears you through her mirror," said Harry, shrugging. "As to how it actually works, I have no idea."

"Hello," said Nicola, still sounding unsure about whether this would work. "Nice to meet you, Hermione."

"The pleasure is mine, Nicola." Hermione paused, and Harry saw the enthused look come across her face again. "I have a couple of questions for you, if you don't mind my asking them."

"We'll see what I can do," said Nicola, smiling calmly, but Harry saw a spark of interest in her eyes.

"I was wondering how you felt about elf rights," said Hermione, and Harry inwardly groaned. He should have recognized Hermione's signature look of zeal. "They're really an exploited class of workers who don't get paid or even treated like human beings. It's slavery in a time where slavery is already abolished."

"Are you the girl who has been sending the owls about spew?" asked Nicola, suddenly putting two and two together.

"It's not 'spew,' it's S.P.E.W., the Society for the Promotion of Elvish Welfare," said Hermione automatically.

"Oh! I'm sorry," apologized Nicola, trying to save face in an awkward blunder. "I didn't realize that."

"I've been trying to start a campaign to give house elves legal rights," explained Hermione enthusiastically, "and was wondering if you had any ideas or advice. The U.S. doesn't have a history of house elf enslavement…"

"That's because we don't have very many house elves," replied Nicola. She sat back down in the off-balance chair. "Immigrants to the U.S. were often not the types to have house elves."

"Well, yes, I suppose that's true," said Hermione earnestly, "but other persecuted groups have more rights in the U.S. than in other countries…"

"Oh, you mean werewolves, ghouls, vampires, half-humans, and such?" Nicola sounded unfazed by the topic and was clearly enjoying herself. "Sure, they may have more _legal_ rights than in other places, but it all depends on the area. Some areas of the country are more tolerant than others. Mostly the U.S. is blood-blind as well, but as I said, there are some areas and some situations…" she let it trail off delicately.

"So you're saying that they might as well not have those rights?" asked Hermione, her voice rising.

"Not at all!" exclaimed Nicola, clearly scandalized by the idea. "It's very important, but sometimes not enough to overcome local prejudice. The government can't change the people's personal beliefs. But individuals always have the option to sue if denied, say employment or service. Goodness knows how many lawsuits go through our courts."

"But what for those people who aren't represented? How could they sue? For example, house elves?" Hermione pointed out. Harry saw that Nicola was surprised to find Hermione conversant with this topic as well.

Nicola paused for a moment, considering Hermione's words. "Well, I suppose the question is if house elves want to be represented," she said deftly. "If there aren't enough similar complaints, then there's no way for a class action lawsuit."

"But they're brainwashed to like being enslaved!" started Hermione, but Nicola interrupted her.

"There still needs to be a significant minority who don't like it and prefer freedom before any campaign of yours could work. You have to have the support of those you represent before campaigning for a change," said Nicola firmly.

Hermione looked discouraged, but Harry was faintly relieved. Maybe now Hermione could drop the S.P.E.W. and move on. Nicola had possibly done something neither Harry nor Ron could do—give Hermione a dose of reality.

Nicola checked her watch, and then got up. "It was nice to meet you, Hermione, but I must be off." Nicola looked up and handed the mirror to Harry. "I have a meeting to go to. It was nice talking with you." With that, Nicola gathered her clipboard and purse and abruptly left the file room.

Harry let out a huge sigh and plopped down into the chair. He was very relieved to see Nicola leave. Harry turned to look at the mirror, and was surprised to see Hermione's upset face. "What's wrong?"

Hermione sniffed and pushed back her hair. "I was so hoping to get some advice from her, and all she did was say that it wasn't possible."

"It looked like you were enjoying yourself, though," pointed out Harry.

"She's smart," admitted Hermione, "and interesting to talk to. But I think I was right in saying to be careful around her, Harry. What was she doing here anyway?" asked Hermione suspiciously.

Harry shrugged. "Asking about filing." He didn't have the energy to elaborate. Remembering Hermione's look of excitement when she first contacted him, he asked, "So what were you so happy about anyway?"

"Oh!" Hermione exclaimed, recalling why she had first used the mirror. Harry saw her take a deep breath. "Harry, we found a room with some of Sirius's old stuff."

--------------------------------------

Some notes:

I have no idea if the Lestranges have French ancestry or not, but they could!

Lao Tze, for those who don't know, is credited with the founding of Taoism, a philosophy that became popular in China.

Further information about Erumpents can be found in _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_. The law about walking them on a leash comes from a law in San Francisco that states: "Prohibits elephants from strolling down Market Street unless they are on a leash" (courtesy of The things people think of. shakes head in amazement (okay, maybe they're antiquated or made up, but still!)


End file.
